


Everything On You Intoxicates

by zipplekink



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bottom Zayn, Fluff, Instagram, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-13 17:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 36,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3390227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zipplekink/pseuds/zipplekink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Zayn<i> maybe </i>stalks that fit guy from his Intro to Lit class on Instagram</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this about a year ago when Liam posted this selfie that made me cry and I just picked it up again. (Also a reason to write excessive smutt and Liam praise bc why not). 
> 
> (Strawberry Bubblegum - Justin Timberlake)
> 
> Trigger warning for mentions of anxiety

Zayn doodles along the edge of his notebook, sighing. Class hasn’t even started yet and he’s bored. What was he thinking, taking so many English classes? His mum had warned him about taking on too much, worrying he’ll deal with a heavy overload the way he _always_ _does_  -

(And she’s probably right, definitely right, but he’s going to try and not think about that until he’s pulling all-nighters in the library.)

His eyes scan across the students filing slowly into the room, searching for an inspiration for the margins of his notebook.

“Hey mate,” says a voice from the left of him.

Zayn hopes the hitch in his breath is masked by the rest of the noise around them. The boy isn’t talking to him, instead turned in his seat to the boy to Zayn’s immediate left. And he’s gorgeous – beautiful, there’s not quite a word that comes to mind that’s accurate enough to use to describe him. His hair is flipped in a style that is sure to mimic Clark Kent’s and there’s thick framed glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose. There’s a layer of hair covering his jawline as if he’s gone sometime without shaving, and Zayn likes how the sharp of his jaw contrasts with the soft round of his cheeks. The black material of his shirt stretches across his chest, wrapping around these biceps that look like they could pin Zayn down with ease.

The doe eyed expression he gives the lad to his left makes Zayn wonder if he’d rather be the one getting pinned down, malleable in the hands of a hard body on top of him.

“D’you have a pen?”                                                                                                              

The boy next to Zayn snorts. Zayn should look away, really. It’s rude to stare, he knows that of course, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off where the other boy’s teeth gnaw into his reddened bottom lip.

 “I thought you were the responsible one, Payno,” the curly haired boy next to him says as he hands him a pen.

 _Payno._ Zayn bites down on a laugh, because they would definitely hear that. It’s fitting somehow -

Payno pouts. Actually pouts his lips at Curly. Zayn has to force his eyes in another direction because he’s fucking smiling at this kid he doesn’t know like a proper creep.

The professor begins speaking, handing out a stack of syllabi to the first person in each row. It’s the same in every class on the first day, and there’s rarely any difference of rules. You’re allowed one absence, a list of exam percentages and the school’s rules on plagiarism. It’ll get lost somewhere in his desk back in his dorm, and he’ll pull it out crumpled at the end of the semester, when panic starts to set in because every big project in every class will be due at the same time.

Payno grabs the paper and turns to hand it to Curly and Zayn realizes he’s staring again when those brown ones look back at him.

His cheeks tinge pink before he turns around and Zayn looks straight ahead. He doesn’t miss when Payno glances over his shoulder at him a few moments later. Zayn’s hyper aware of _that_. He’s sure he looks strangled as he tries to keep his face together.

He keeps his eyes planted on the syllabus for a moment until the boy turns back around and Zayn can look up again to look at the stretch of cotton against his shoulders. And really, it’s obscene the way the bulge of muscle presses into the material.

Zayn does look back at the syllabus sometimes as the professor goes over it. He doesn’t stare at this guy –Payno- the whole class, just glances in his general direction for about ninety five percent of it okay?

When roll is called, Zayn finds out the boy’s name is actually Liam Payne, hence the nickname apparently, and discovers there are tattoos scattered across his right arm when he raises his hand. And really, life is just unfair.

When class is over, Liam gets up with Curly, whose name Zayn hadn’t heard because he had been too busy watching Liam to see what name he raised his hand to, and walks out with him. Zayn sighs, following behind after a few moments, knowing Intro to Lit is his new favorite class.

Louis is waiting for him outside of the classroom. They had tried to get similar schedules, at least in similar buildings, but they had only managed to do so for two. His eyes are wide and there’s a frown set on his lips when he spots Zayn.

“Did you know you had class with Harry Styles and not text me about it to be an arse? Or were you just being your normal oblivious self?” Louis snaps when Zayn walks up next to him. 

“The second, I guess,” Zayn tries with a shrugs. He doesn’t know who Harry Styles is, and frankly he doesn’t care, because he’s itching to tell Louis about Liam, even though Louis is going to harass him about it for _weeks_.

Louis sighs dramatically and tugs Zayn’s phone out of his hand, tapping in the passcode. Zayn hadn’t even told him what it was, yet he knows anyway. He is only the air of mystery to passersby.

Zayn watches him pull up Instagram over his shoulder as they walk back the short distance to their dorm building. It’s quite a large campus, one Zayn had been nervous about living on, but they had been lucky enough to have a room close to their academic buildings.

“Harry Styles,” Louis repeats, shoving the phone into his face.

Zayn grabs the phone from Louis’ hand, glaring at him. He recognizes the curly haired kid from the class, the one who sat behind Liam.

The account is filled mostly with photos of random objects filtered black and white (a fire hydrant, what the hell, the point of Instagram is making less and less sense) and a few selfies. “Seems like bit of a prat,” he chuckles. “Just your type.”

“Oh? I’m the one that likes prats? Need I remind you about –“

Zayn stops walking beside Louis when his eyes slide over another familiar face, one that he’s been tempted to rush back to the dorm and sketch.

He’s sitting on a bed that looks as if it’s from one of the dorms with a stack of DVDs beside him. _harrystyles: leave it up to @fakeliampayne to bring nothing but his superhero collection to school._

Zayn looks down at his own Green Lantern shirt and it’s confirmed. This guy is not real, but a production of his stress filled brain. It’s more logical of an explanation than anything else he can come up with.

Louis looks down at the phone and snorts. “If Harry’s my type, he sure is yours.”

Zayn ignores him, continuing to scroll down through the photos.  The next one with Liam, he’s sitting on a bench with a fishing pole held between his knees. His hair is shorter, face a bit thinner and lacking the scruff. There’s this crinkling at the corners of his eyes from smiling and _what the hell_. He clicks on Liam’s IG, _thefakeliampayne_.

Liam’s Instagram is nearly nothing but selfies and he knows this kid must know how good looking he is. They take the elevator and by the time it reaches their floor, Zayn has reached the bottom of his Instagram page.

His thumb hovers over the green follow button. It would be a bit strange if he followed Liam nearly right after their first class together. But would it be stranger than Zayn planting heart eyes on the back of his head for the past hour?

“There’s no dick pics,” Louis sighs. “Trust me, I looked.”

Zayn chuckles when he realizes he means Harry. “You would.”

Louis shrugs without a care and unlocks their dorm room. They just moved in two days ago and it’s a bit messy already, filled with textbooks and boxes that will be left unpacked for a few weeks. Zayn’s bed hugs the right wall and Louis’ the left, their two desks separating them. The window between the beds faces the courtyard between their building and another dorm. They had spent the last two nights watching people stumble around there drunkenly.

“How do you know this Harry Styles?” Zayn asks. They haven’t spent a moment apart since they’ve arrived here, surely Zayn would remember-

“The fit boy from move in? Facebook stalked him? You were right there, listening?” Louis recounts. “Or weren’t, apparently. You’re a shit friend.”

He only shrugs, a grin tugging at his lips. He vaguely remembers the Facebook stalking. How Louis found out his name and Facebook and Instagram in less than twenty four hours, he isn’t sure, but it makes him feel better about his current creepy situation.

Zayn lays out on his bed, pulling the Instagram to one photo view and keeping his thumb to the far right to make sure he doesn’t accidentally like a picture.

 

Zayn is in his Intro Writing class the next day when the notification comes through. He stills before swiping his finger along the ‘harrystyles is now following you!’

It says Harry only follows fifty people, yet over three hundred follow him. Zayn doesn’t understand why he’s one of those fifty or how Harry even found him because he has a follower count of like fifteen. If he followed Louis, Zayn is sure he would have heard about that – nonstop. He goes through Harry’s following list, looking for anyone he knows, but is distracted by Liam.

He’s posted a new picture since the last time Zayn had checked. It’s from the day before (unless Liam wears a black shirt every day). He’s looking into the camera with this smolder than makes Zayn sweat and his finger twitches to press the like button. He wears the glasses and one of his eyebrows is quirked up and it’s really just too obscene. It has fifteen likes and the caption reads ‘first day of class how do I look’.

There are a few comments of compliments and one from Harry that says, ‘like you’re trying to take Green Lantern’s pants off’. Liam’s response is a simple ‘shut up’ with a blush emoticon and the monkey covering its mouth and Zayn is going to throw his phone across the room.

Liam posts another photo that night of his dinner and of something rude that Harry drew. He posts a picture of the sun rising in the morning and a sneaky photo of someone’s Batman notebook in class. Zayn isn’t checking his Instagram every ten minutes, if anyone asks.

And he doesn’t check it again while he’s waiting for Intro to Lit start, because that would be ridiculous.

When he closes out of the Instagram app he realizes that Harry might expect them to exchange greetings or something that requires them talking to each other since Harry deemed him worthy enough of a follow, or something.

Which, as Louis pointed out after he had told him about it, didn’t make sense since Zayn’s last Instagram photo was of something he drew and it was posted nearly two months ago. There are about four selfies of Zayn on there because it’s awkward taking them.

_what do i do if harry mentions following me on ig ?_

Zayn hadn’t even been sure if he should follow back. Should he ignore it so Harry doesn’t bring it up? Or will he bring it up since Zayn didn’t follow? Someone should have told him downloading this app was going to cause him this amount of stress.

_tell him you have a friend whose has a 10/10 ass and wonders how he feels about tea on sat_

Zayn shuts his phone and sighs. Louis is no help.

He is hyper aware of everyone filing into the room today, waiting to see those brown eyes that somehow have managed to push themselves into Zayn’s thoughts too many times over the past two days.

Liam steps into the room, a hand curled around the strap of his backpack, his head thrown back as he laughs at something Harry is saying. He wears a white tank top with an unbuttoned red plaid shirt over it and a black beanie pulled over his head.

Zayn’s eyes are back on his notebook when they take their seats beside him. He hadn’t realized until that moment that he had been nervous about them sitting somewhere else, but there were social rules to follow, weren’t there?

And it’s a bit creepy listening to them talk in hushed voices, but he can’t help it. Liam has this voice that is thick and deep and he talks quickly so it really can’t even be considered eavesdropping since he’s not sure what Liam is saying.

But from the corner of his eye he sees the constant upward curve of Liam’s lips as he speaks and there’s this light in his eye when he talks like whatever it is makes him excited and it doesn’t even matter what he’s saying. Zayn would like to just watch him talk, wants to watch the movement of his full, spit slicked lips curling around his accent. And around other things, but he _really_ can’t think about that now.

“Ask Green Lantern to the movie, Li,” Harry says slowly. His voice picks up a notch when he says this, so Zayn can actually hear him without straining his ears. He watches as Liam’s whole body tenses, and a frown takes over his lips.

Zayn is thankful for when class starts because Liam turns and he can full on look at the boy without the fear of getting caught and really, he doesn’t care how laughable it makes him. He can tune into the teacher while his eyes are busy, so who is he hurting?

 

Louis is outside of his classroom again when Zayn leaves. And he stills, blocking the door way because Louis is standing in front of Harry. For a moment, panic sets in that he may be talking about him, but he notices the way Louis stands with a hand on his hip, and a grin that could only mean flirting.

His eyes search for Liam, who he finds standing awkwardly a few feet away, eyebrows scrunched as he looks down at his thick, brown boots. The glasses are gone today and the rounds of his cheeks are reddened worse than his lips.

Zayn moves when someone shoves past him but he doesn’t get much closer. It feels like there’s a wall pressed to his front, stopping him from moving any closer. Harry’s arms are crossed and there’s an amused purse to his lips as he listens to whatever Louis is saying.

Liam glances up at them with an amused expression as well, and a shake of his head. His eyes travel past them and rest on Zayn and he’s sure the beating in his heart is going to cause him to throw up.

Liam points at Harry and Louis with his thumb and rolls his eyes. Somehow Liam is fucking fit and incredibly adorable at the same time. Zayn had been fonding, as Louis called it, over pictures of Liam with clip art hats and beards, and then had to exit quickly out of the app when he scrolled to one that made arousal twist in his stomach.

Zayn lets out a huff of laughter he’s sure looks awkward, but it seems to be what Liam needs to close the divide between them. Something jolts through him and he flexes his fingers tighter around the strap of his backpack just for the feeling of support.

“You’re Zayn, yeah? This one’s mate?” Liam points a thumb to Louis and Zayn nods. His name rings in his ears and he tries not to think about how it would sound when Liam moans it, because _he is standing right fucking there, Malik, get it together_.

“Good. I’m Liam.” Liam bites around a grin. He doesn’t explain what’s so good about that before he walks away to join up with Harry. His fingers wiggle in a wave goodbye and Zayn can only nod his head in his direction because Louis is throwing an arm around Zayn’s shoulders.

“We’re going to Liam’s game on Friday. Bring a date so you don’t third wheel mine.”

 

He’s never been to this part of campus. It’s on the edge of the football stadium and consists of the sports buildings, the gym, and other things Zayn doesn’t find necessary to visit ever. But there’s this stupid group project and apparently his partner is never available except for while at work.

Whatever. Zayn just needs to get this over with because he hates group projects.

He enters through the glass doors and spots Danny after the woman at the check in counter points him in the right direction. He sits at another type of check in desk between the weight room and the showers.

Danny waves towards Zayn. There’s already another seat there waiting for him behind the desk and it feels a bit strange to go back there.

“What’s up bro?” Danny greets. “Sorry about having you come here, but I literally do nothing. It’s technically a rent out place but no one really asks to rent anything.” He snorts and Zayn laughs because he has to.

They work for a while on editing a paper the professor assigned them, and it isn’t too bad. Danny’s okay to work with. He listens to everything Zayn says and his suggestions are thoughtful. He’s glad, worried that he’d been partnered with someone who would either make him do all the work or want to do all the work themselves, and then do it wrong.

When Danny gets a phone call, Zayn pulls out his cell phone. It turns out to be a bad decision though, as he clicks on the abused fakeliampayne button and spots Liam’s newest photo, uploaded only a few seconds ago.

He’s shirtless, standing in a mirror that has steam built up the corners. He clearly took a shower, his hair wet and curling at the top. His toned stomach is tanned and there’s a trail of hair disappearing into the top of a towel that hangs obscenely low on his hips. Liam’s looking down at his camera, the glint of a smile playing on his lips like _he knows_. The caption reads, ‘might like to have the curly hair back? what do u think?’

Zayn thinks it’s unnecessary for Liam to post such an obscenely hot picture that makes his pants too tight just to ask what people think about his curly hair because fuck, Zayn doesn’t care what his hair does when he’s thinking about mapping out Liam’s skin with his tongue.

Warmth spreads across his skin at the thought and he eyes Danny as if he may be able to hear his unspoken words. He closes the app feeling frustrated and slides the phone in his pocket as Danny hangs up.

“Me mum hasn’t stopped calling me since I left last week,” he apologizes with a roll of his eyes. “You would have thought I went to another country and not twenty minutes away.”

“Same with mine,” Zayn lies. It’s actually him that’s been calling nonstop, and he’s sure his mum is going to block his number if he keeps calling her at the rate he does. Plus, home is over an _hour_ -

“Hey Payno!” Danny’s voice booms suddenly.

Liam pushes open the doors to the showers and Zayn realizes he just took the photo he posted in there. Liam was just naked, in there.

He holds back his groan, trying not to bite his bottom lip as his eyes run over Liam’s bare torso. His basketball shorts hang obscenely low like the towel had, which is now thrown over his shoulder. His hair is sticking to his forehead still, the only difference from the picture being he now wears his glasses. It’s even more attractive, somehow and Zayn has to force his eyes to pull off of Liam when he comes up to the counter.

“Hey Zayn,” Liam says, grinning. Despite that being the name he’s answered to for nearly nineteen years, it takes him a long beat to realize who Liam is talking to.

“Hello.”

There’s a flush in Liam’s skin, either from working out or from a hot shower, and Zayn can’t even try to rip his eyes away as Danny hands him something from behind the counter. He’s aware of them speaking, but Zayn is too busy raking his eyes across Liam’s strong chest and the biceps that bulge out from the way he’s leaning on the counter.

He pulls to when he realizes Liam is looking at him, his brows pushing together. “You’re going to be at the game tomorrow, yeah?”

Zayn nods, swallowing thickly. If Louis were here, he’d be taking the piss out of him for being so obvious. He always is, no matter how hard he practices keeping his face casual. It’s not as fucking easy as it sounds. Instead, he always looks strangled and probably a bit constipated.

“Sick. See you then, yeah?” Liam’s teeth tug anxiously at his bottom lip before he turns back towards the showers and Zayn doesn’t mean to lick at his own lips, but he’s thinking about sucking on Liam’s– and _fuck_ , he needs to get himself together.  

Danny looks at him with a laugh but Zayn ignores him, thoughts raking through his brain on whether or not it’s okay to follow him on Instagram now.

 

Zayn decides to post a selfie, even though it’s really much more stressful than it probably should be. He decided he looked nice today, wearing his favorite snug fitting Henley. The red stood out nicely against his skin and it showed just a peek of his tattoos when unbuttoned.

He stands in front of the mirror, phone angled in order to get most of him. He tilts his head a few times, in different directions, smiles, doesn’t smile, lifts the camera up, just searching for something that screams, “snap the picture now.” Different angles probably don’t look any better on him but he just can’t find one that feels right.

Finally, with a head tilted away from the camera and a small smile on his lips (his cheeks are starting to hurt if he’s being honest, and he hopes it’s not obvious in the photo) he takes the picture. A few times, with his head half a centimeter more to the right and then another with the camera an inch higher. It’s really pathetic, maybe, but he goes for it and posts it on Instagram after flicking through each filter a few times.

He had followed Liam before deciding on taking a selfie – god that word makes him cringe. It had been nerve wracking, but probably not as bad as it now, waiting for anyone to see his photo. He considers deleting it, or deleting himself in general but he doesn’t think that’s possible.

A few likes come through and he scrolls through them, ignoring Louis’ comment of ‘stop being hotter than me.’

And he nearly passes out when his eyes scan over the ‘fakeliampayne liked your photo.’

 

“You’re going to die of heat exhaustion,” Louis tells him, picking at the red fabric of his shirt. “Do you realize how hot it is outside? And we’re going to be sitting on metal stands surrounded by a bunch of people?”

Zayn shrugs, looking down at his attire. He hates shorts, first of all, and this shirt is thin. He should be okay.

“And you look like you’re about to walk the runaway and I simply can’t have you ruin my date like that,” Louis continues, frowning.

Zayn sighs. He should change. It’s not like he’s going to see Liam anyway. Liam’s going to be playing and they’ll leave when the games over. And he had already seen him earlier during class. Zayn had been wearing another super hero shirt, and jeans, and the struggle that had been doing his hair this morning had been worth the three seconds of Liam seeing him when he had said hello.

He tugs off the shirt and Louis gives him a pleased smile before Zayn flicks him off and digs in his drawer for something else. He hopes it is warm enough for a tank top as his fingers graze over the black material, covered in tiny yellow batman symbols.

“You still look better than me,” Louis says, pushing his nose up with a pout. 

“Then change,” Zayn offers. Louis looks good, even though he’s wearing basketball shorts and a tank top, with a beanie pulled over his hair.  

Louis rolls his eyes, a smirk covering his lips. “It’s a football game, Zayn. Unlike you, I know how to dress properly.”

Zayn flicks him off with a grin before grabbing his phone and keys and pushing past him to the door so they can get this over with.

Harry is waiting for them outside of the dorm, also wearing a tank top over jeans. There’s a pink speckled beanie pulled over his curls so they’re a mess framing his face.

“Is this your first footie match here?” Harry asks as they head off towards the field. Both Louis and Zayn nod.

“I use to come all the time last year with Liam. It’s why we chose this school. He got a full scholarship and all,” he explains. He talks with a smirk constantly on his face, like all of his words are a joke of some sort. “They usually have a party at the red door house by the field afterwards if you guys want to come?”

Louis responds immediately and Zayn doesn’t at all. He could say yes, and be anxious for the next few hours because Liam will probably be there and well.

Or he could say no, and have Louis force him into going anyway because that’s what Louis does.

Harry looks at him expectantly and Louis brushes their shoulders together. “He’ll be there. My right hand man, yeah?”

Zayn nods, digging into his pocket for a cigarette to distract him from the nerves bubbling in his stomach.

 

Zayn doesn’t understand football. Well, he gets the gist of it. Kick the ball into the goal while preventing the other team from kicking the ball into your goal. But there are different calls he doesn’t understand and the referee makes them stop abruptly sometimes. Harry and Louis cheer and groan at times when nothing seems to be happening.

It doesn’t help that Liam is running around the field, sweat covering his forehead and making his hair curl again. He looks up in their direction a few times and waves with a thrilled smile stretching across his face.

Zayn is glad he can finally get away with blatantly staring in a socially accepted manner.

They win and the crowd goes crazy, everyone standing up with their fists in the hair, yelling and hooting. Zayn stands too, watching as the other members of the team slap Liam on his back, because apparently he did something amazing. Zayn wishes he understood the game just then.

“C’mon,” Harry says once the cheering starts to die down, and he leads Louis and Zayn off of the bleachers and towards the field.

Liam is waiting for them by the edge, lips wrapped obscenely around the edge of his water bottle. Zayn watches the movement of his throat as he swallows, only pulling his eyes away when his lip starts to throb from how hard his teeth were biting into it.

“Great job, Payno! That last goal!” Harry shakes his head in disbelief, clapping Liam hard on the back. Liam smiles shyly, eyes flicking towards Zayn and Louis.

“Yeah, great game,” Zayn says. Does he sound strangled? Like he can’t breathe? Because that’s kind of how he feels.

“Thanks, um –“ Liam starts before Harry cuts him off.

“They’re coming to the red door house with us, afterwards. Cool with you?”

Zayn is sure it would be rude of Liam to say no with them standing right there, and for a brief moment Zayn is worried he will. But he nods, breathless and red cheeked.

“I just have to shower real quick. I’ll be about ten minutes?” Liam says to Harry.

“Yeah, you’re gross. We’ll wait.”

As Liam walks away with a quick wave of his hand, Zayn wants to tell him that he is very, very far from gross.

The three of them sit back down on the bleachers as they wait for Liam. Harry seems to know everyone, despite it only being the first week of school. Zayn thinks it’s how friendly he looks, or maybe he actually leaves his dorm room, unlike himself.

“We’ve known each other for forever,” Louis starts, pointing a thumb at Zayn. “He admired my lego building skills and asked me to teach him, and we’ve been best mates ever since.”

Zayn snorted. “I remember you telling me my lego batmobile was stupid and knocking it over before you insisted on showing me how it’s ‘properly’ done.”

“Details,” Louis says offhandedly. Harry cackles as if it’s the funniest thing in the universe and Louis’ eyes brighten considerably.

Louis and Harry start talking about the game and Zayn tunes them out, watching the few people left standing on the field. He lights another cigarette, letting it clear any thoughts of Liam naked in the shower from his head.

 

Liam really is only gone for ten minutes. He’s the first one to come out, his hair still wet and tousled on the top of his head. Zayn had thought it would take longer, with coach talks or whatever usually happened after a game. (So he’s seen a sport movie like once).

But he’s glad it didn’t, because he’s going to vomit if he has to listen to Louis insinuate mutual blow jobs to Harry one more time

“I like um, your tank top,” Liam says once they start walking. Zayn isn’t sure how they formed this order they are in, Louis and Harry in front of them, Zayn and Liam falling to the back. But he doesn’t mind. At all, actually.

Zayn looks down, feeling a bit stupid about the shirt he chose since they were going to his first ever college party. “Oh, erm… thanks. It’s hard finding anything to wear without superheroes on them. Got quite a bit.”

Liam laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s okay, I really like superheroes too… like a lot, actually.” His cheeks burn red and Zayn wants to press his palms against them.

“Really likes the Green Lantern,” Harry adds in, a hint of humor in his voice. Liam glares at the back of him like he’s said something rude.

“Really? Green Lantern’s ace,” Zayn adds, hoping that it might wash away the frown that has taken over Liam’s lips.

“Ignore Harry, he thinks he’s funny,” Liam grunts, flicking Harry in the shoulder blade. Harry only laughs in response and he doesn’t get the joke.

“Got the same problem with this one,” Zayn says fondly, nudging his head to Louis.

Liam snickers, tilting his head towards his shoulder and somehow adorable is another word added to the list to describe Liam Payne. “It’s like they’re made for each other.”

“Hey!” Harry and Louis say at the same time, turning to glare at the two of them. The laugh Zayn lets out relaxes the tension rippling through his muscles and it seems easier after that, until they reach the house and Zayn feels anxious all over again.

The red door house is just that, a three story house with a bright red front door. The yard is filled with people, coming in and also just standing there. Muffled music can be heard from the sidewalk, one of those slow turned club-y songs.

Everyone stops to talk to Liam and Harry as Louis and Zayn follow behind. He can’t remember the names of half of the people he is introduced to. Someone named Neil or something hands him a red cup with a big smile and an excited greeting. It sloshes over the side, spilling onto Zayn’s hand.

“Sorry mate,” Neil – Niall?- says as he hands another cup to Liam. “Great job today, Payno. Really kicked arse, as always.”

Liam blushes, responding with a thank you and something that’s much more modest than he should be. At least, that’s what Zayn assumes after the way everyone else reacted after Liam played.

Louis elbows Zayn in the ribs. “Staring, mate. You’re a right creep, ya know?”

Zayn grins over the rim of his cup before he sips it, letting the taste of cheap beer slide down his throat quickly. He’s not going to deny it. There’s something terribly addicting about Liam.

“You’re not much better, Lou. Not as discreet as you think.”

Louis snorts, throwing his arm around Zayn. “I am not trying to be discreet, my friend.”

Zayn’s always admired Louis’ confidence and his lack of fear, even if it’s gotten him into trouble a few times. Not that Zayn thinks there’s anything wrong with him or how he looks, it’s just – he’s nervous, all the time. Sometimes it seems for no reason at all.

And while he thinks he’s not bad looking, he feels like nothing compared to Liam. It’s so intimidating the way it seems to be so effortless for him.

And if he thought Liam was attractive before, it’s nothing compared to the way he’s fucking him up now. It’s the genuineness in the way he speaks to people, the goofy grin that spreads across his lips as he sips more of his drink. It’s the god forsaken way he tucks his head into his shoulder, the crinkled corner of his eyes when he smiles at something Zayn says.

It feels somewhat like a date once Louis and Harry disappear behind them without a word, the way Liam’s always touching him – a palm on the flat of his back, or fingertips grazing his side. It’s like he doesn’t want Zayn to go too far and Zayn drowns that thought away with a particularly large sip of his drink because that makes his heart stagger in his chest.

“Harry’s a beer pong champ…probably dragged your friend -erm Louis? - to show off to him,” Liam giggles. After a beat, he claps his hand over his mouth, eyes widening. “I didn’t say that.”

“It’s okay, I can keep a secret,” Zayn laughs, reaching out for Liam without thinking. He swerves his hand to grab another beer at the last moment, feeling the blush rise in his cheeks. He hates the nerves that garble around in his stomach.

“Did you want to play? Or um, we could head upstairs, if you’re really up to meeting more new people or um dance or um like –“ Liam stutters out, fingers scratching at the back of his neck.

Fuck it, Zayn thinks before he reaches out again for Liam’s wrist. He has to get over these nerves around Liam, and the idea of their bodies pressed together might be enough reason to. “Dancing sounds good,” he says around a hopefully confident smirk.

 

Liam is hesitant at first, touching Zayn like he’s unsure what to do. But that changes when he fits his chest to Zayn’s back, sliding the palms of his hands over Zayn’s torso with an air of confidence. He’s a solid pressure against him, and his arms feel good wrapped around his smaller frame. They move fast to the beat, Liam guiding them with a firm hand on Zayn’s lower abdomen, the other circling around his hip.

He’s grinding steadily against Zayn’s backside, and Zayn leans his head back to rest on Liam’s shoulder because there’s a jolt rocking through him with every roll of Liam’s hips. Zayn wonders if he’s this good in bed, if the rhythm of his hips would be this steady when he’s got Zayn stretched around him and -

He shivers, and he can hear a chuckle from Liam before the other man is rucking up his shirt, fingers skimming over the trail of hair underneath. Zayn reaches around him to cup his palm behind Liam’s head, letting him know it’s okay to touch. Fuck, he really wants Liam to, but the other man pulls his fingers away.

He’s turning them so they face each other, and he can cup a hand around the back of Zayn’s neck in return. His eyes are glazed and unfocused and his lips are parted in this sinful way around sharp breaths. It’s hot, very hot, and Zayn wishes he had gotten a water bottle instead of another beer.

“You’re like super fit,” Liam giggles, leaning in towards his ear. It’s dulled under the loud music but the words ricochet through his head. Liam’s too close for him to think properly, and he can’t rip his eyes away from where his tongue slides across his bottom lip.

Zayn slides his fingers along Liam’s hips, playing with the soft material of his shirt. They’re hardly dancing anymore, just pressed tightly against one another. Liam’s completely mental, he decides. Or maybe he is, because he wants to remove the layers between them and that’s not him. He doesn’t _do_ hook ups.

“Want to go outside?” he asks instead of responding to the compliment, pressing his lips against Liam’s ear. Fingers dig into his skin and he wants to groan. He’s thickening in his pants and it must be noticeable where their hips are stitched together. “Need some air.”

Liam nods. He has a firm hand on the bottom of Zayn’s spine as he guides them through the crowd and towards the front door. The air feels good, cold and crisp against his skin. It helps him catch his breath, inhaling until his lungs burn.

Liam moves them past the group immediately outside the door, and the music fades to a dull pound behind them. Zayn fumbles with pulling out his pack of cigarettes as he follows behind. He hadn’t realized how badly his fingers had been shaking until now.

“Is that the kind of air you need?” Liam asks, stopping to wait for Zayn to catch up before moving again. There’s no judgment on his face, just curiosity.

Zayn laughs. “Helps me clear my head,” he admits sheepishly. He’s always been a bit nervous of judgment for the habit, knowing it’s well deserved though he can’t quite seem to kick it. His mum still scolds him. He had never been able to keep it from her.

“Why do you need to clear your head?” Liam asks immediately. He nudges his head towards a tree at the very edge of the yard, before he slides down to sit in the grass surrounding it.

“Because you’re like super fit, too,” Zayn says, trying to mock Liam because it feels less nerve-wracking that way. Less of an admission, though his words are true. _Sort of_ true. He’s not sure if fit is the right word to use to explain how attracted he is to Liam. Maybe he can use his lips in a different way to tell him.

“And that makes you need to clear your head?” Liam frowns, petting his fingers through the shards of grass between his legs.

Zayn reaches out with his empty hand to press his palm against Liam’s flushed cheek. He wants to tell Liam that he’s made him feel hot and ready to burst for the past week, but they don’t know each other well enough for that to not be weird. He doesn’t know how to do this properly, at all.

He just wants Liam, on top of him, pressing him down into the hard ground. But he also just wants to listen to Liam talk and do that little giggle shrug that’s been tugging at his chest all night.

“What’s your middle name?” Zayn asks suddenly, and Liam looks taken aback, lips falling open like he can’t think of a response.

“Um, James,” he answers finally.

Zayn takes another drag of his cigarette, making sure to blow it away from Liam’s face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, very,” he snorts, face wrinkling into a laugh.

“Favorite color?”

“Green?”

“Where are you from?”

“Wolver-Hampton.”

“Who’s your favorite superhero?”

“Batman, but I’ve been thinking about Green Lantern since the first day I saw you.”

Zayn hesitates, the next question slipping away from him. He had been wearing a Green Lantern shirt the first day of class. Green Lantern, who Harry always brings up with a laugh dangling around his words.

It feels like an admission of some sorts, with the bashful smile Liam gives him, but Zayn can’t process the meaning of his words because it doesn’t make _sense_.

“I’ve Instagram-stalked you, for like, three days in a row,” Zayn blurts, cringing as the words pass his lips. Liam laughs, throwing his head back. It’s loud and booming and he’s not making fun of him, but Zayn wants to shrink into the trunk of the tree and disappear.

“I had Harry follow you on Instagram so I could look at yours as well. You really need more selfies, to be honest,” Liam follows up easily. He seems unfazed by Zayn’s admission but Zayn feels like he’s going to burst because of Liam’s.

“I hate selfies,” Zayn admits. _Can’t get them to look quite like yours._

Liam snorts, reaching out to grab his shirt and pull him closer so their sides press firmly against each other. Zayn’s watches the way Liam’s tongue licks out against his bottom lip again and his breathing hitches. It’s eager of him to think Liam would want to kiss him, but he stubs out his cigarette quickly just in case.

Liam is turning away from him though, pulling his cell phone out with a mischievous smile before he’s reaching it out in front of them.

It’s dark, the only light coming from the street lamp, and Zayn knows they both probably look a bit more trashed than they actually are, but he likes the way Liam’s head fits next to his, and the smile that makes Liam’s eyes crinkle. Zayn sticks out his tongue, as he usually does when he feels awkward in selfies, and he’s glad he did when Liam laughs again.

“Perfect,” Liam hums. He turns the screen so Zayn can’t see whatever he types as the caption. Zayn feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, but before he can pull it out, Liam is pulling Zayn’s face towards his with two fingers hooked under his jaw.

“You really are beautiful,” Liam breathes. His eyes trail along Zayn’s face and he’s hyper aware of every place their body meets, keeping him warm in the cool, night air.

“What are you in school for?” Zayn asks, his voice thick as Liam drags a thumb across his cheek bone.

Liam’s brows furrow. He’s afraid Liam’s going to pull back, so he twists his fingers in the hem of his shirt to keep him close. “Business, why?”

“I’m not into kissing strangers,” Zayn mumbles. Liam’s bottom lip is trapping between his teeth, expression considering before he’s nodding, leaning forward to close the space between them.

Liam’s full lips are a soft pressure on his own, slicker than Zayn’s chapped ones. It’s hesitant as they learn to move together, tilting their heads until they slot together just right and Liam takes over, gripping the back of Zayn’s neck to guide him. A tongue drags over Zayn’s bottom lip and he’s parting them before he can think about it.

The hesitancy is gone, and Liam kisses with a determination, licking into Zayn’s mouth like he’s trying to memorize the taste. Zayn can’t help the groan rumbling in his chest as he grips tighter to Liam’s shirt. The taste on Liam’s tongue reminds him of a song he used to love, something like strawberry bubblegum, and it plays around in his head. _Everything on you intoxicates, it’s a mystery_

There’s plenty of space between their chests, but it feels like the warmth from Liam is surrounding him. Zayn slides his hands up his chest, tugging on the collar of his shirt to pull him closer. Liam sighs as their tongues press together, and it takes everything in Zayn not to climb on Liam’s lap to make him make those sounds over and over.

Zayn pulls back abruptly to catch his breath, not loosening the grip he has on Liam’s shirt. Liam’s cheeks are flushed, lips swollen and slick. Liam presses their foreheads together, grinning lazily up at him.

“You are fake,” Zayn says, laughing breathlessly. “The fake Liam Payne. No way you’re real.”

Liam laughs loudly, shoving him playfully in the chest before his fingers wrap in his shirt and he’s being pulled closer so their lips can meet for the second time.

 

Zayn doesn’t know how long they stay out there, tangled against each other, but his eyes are heavy when Liam walks him back to his dorm, all of the alcohol gone from his system. He can feel the ghost of Liam’s strong hands from where they were gripping at his shoulders and thighs when Zayn slipped onto his lap. He tries not to think about it now, how anyone could have seen the way he grinded down into Liam’s lap, lips locked together.

_I don’t know why I let you kick in my do not disturb sign, but your mouth in motion got me so high_

“Where do you live?” Zayn asks, turning to Liam as they reach the door to his building. He had bombarded Liam with more questions as they walked back. He could listen to Liam talk speak for hours about his sisters and growing up with Harry, listening to him laugh when he tells Zayn stories about the mischief they had gotten up to.

Liam nods back towards the way they came. “The dorm next to the red door house.”

Zayn frowns, fingers tangling in Liam’s now abused shirt. “Why did you walk all the way back this way, then?”

Liam shrugs, stepping forward to crowd Zayn against the cold wall of the building. “I wasn’t ready to let you go yet,” he murmurs, moving his lips against Zayn’s jaw. “Wanted to make sure you got back safe.”

“Yeah?” Zayn breathes. Liam hovers over his lips for a moment, pulling his head back when Zayn leans forward. There’s a playful smirk on his mouth for only a moment before he lets their lips slot together.

Zayn thinks he could spend the rest of his life kissing Liam, or with Liam’s hard body pressed against his. Liam groans when he pulls away again, pressing their foreheads together.

“If I don’t leave, I never will,” Liam sighs like it’s a problem.

“You don’t have to,” Zayn breathes, his words full of hesitation. “I mean, if you don’t want to. Could get mugged on the way back, or somethin’. Safe here.”

Liam quirks an eyebrow. His hands roam up and down Zayn’s sides like he can’t stop touching him and he can’t wrap his head around it, around any of this. “Do you normally invite people you just met to stay the night?”

Smart remarks play around in Zayn’s head, but the word ‘no’ slips past his tongue before he can stop it. And it’s true, but he’s been hard for what feels like hours now and there’s just something about the man that makes him not want to let him go. _And if you ask me where I wanna go, I say all the way_

“You don’t have to. No pressure, at all man.” Zayn says quickly. “I was just –“

Liam presses a finger to Zayn’s lips, shushing him. “I would very much like to, Zayn.”

Zayn pulls him closer, trying to hide the tremble rolling down his spine. Liam eases his finger down slowly, dragging his bottom lip down with it. There’s something dark in his normally soft eyes and Zayn thinks whether or not Liam comes upstairs with him, he’s going to have to relieve the pressure growing in his cock sooner than later.

“Yeah?” Zayn breathes, tongue chasing Liam’s finger. He digs in his back pocket, purposefully pushing his hips against Liam’s and away from the wall so he can tug out his keys.

Liam makes it difficult to navigate through the building as he follows with his body pressed behind Zayn’s, hands gripping onto his hips so they’re practically stumbling over each other’s feet. His lips move smoothly down the back of Zayn’s neck like he’s purposely trying to make getting to his room a slow process.

The elevator is barely open wide enough to fit through before Zayn’s turning Liam and pushing him until his back presses roughly against the wall. There’s something like adrenaline filling the air around them, buzzing like electricity running through their limbs. It makes him lightheaded, and he’s thankful for the curl of Liam’s arm around his back for support.

“What floor?” Liam chuckles, nipping at Zayn’s jaw.

“Six,” Zayn groans, pressing his hips to meet Liam’s,  no longer worried about Liam feeling the hard length of his cock underneath his jeans, because Liam’s grinding his own down against his thigh.

Liam’s hand rests his hand on Zayn’s back again after he’s pressed the button. “This okay?” he murmurs, the very tip of his fingers sliding under the edge of Zayn’s briefs that poke out from the top of his jeans.

“Yeah, Liam,” Zayn breathes out fast. Liam’s fingers slip farther, sliding down the curve of Zayn’s ass. His nail bites down into the skin there when Liam pulls their hips tighter together and fuck, this could end faster than he likes.

They’re a mess of giggles and sharp moans as they stumble out of the elevator, Liam’s hands gripping at Zayn’s thighs to practically carry him down the hallway. There’s no longer alcohol in his system, but Zayn feels drunk, or _high_ off Liam like he’s inhaled too much of that weed Louis and him used to smoke in the woods behind his house during sixth form.

“Fob lock,” Zayn gasps, pressing the keys into Liam’s chest. Liam’s sucking gently at the skin along his throat as he manages to gasp out his room number.

Liam chuckles, clicking open the door before walking them through it. Zayn’s amazed by the bulge of his arms as he’s carried inside, and he drags the sharp of his fingernails along them. Liam shivers, his grip on Zayn faltering so he slips down to his feet.

“D’you have like a, uh code for ‘don’t come in’? Like a sock on the door, or somethin’?” Liam asks, pulling up the bottom of Zayn’s tank top.

Zayn lifts his arms, letting him tug the tank the rest of the way off. Liam’s eyes fall across his torso, fingers reaching out to trace the lips inked against his chest. “I reckon a text message would work, yeah?” he snickers, pulling out his phone.

The quick message, ‘need the room tonight x ;)’ takes longer to type out than normal with the shake in his fingers. Liam’s hands are wandering his body, trailing across every inch of bare skin, lips moving and teeth dragging in their wake.

“Truly gorgeous,” Liam murmurs, something like admiration coating his voice. It makes Zayn feel warm and a bit embarrassed actually. He cups Liam’s face to pull him upwards so he doesn’t have to respond.

He kisses with purpose, lips more urgent as they scramble to remove the rest of their clothing. Their limbs knock heavily against each other, breathy laughs and sharp moans trapped between their lips. Zayn clings to Liam as he trips out of his jeans, dragging him down onto the bed with him. Liam pushes up on his elbows smoothly, bracketing Zayn’s body beneath his own.

Zayn’s been confused how someone like Liam can be so tough, hard lined and muscles bulging, yet when he smiles his face gives joy and cuddly a whole new definition. He’s a contrast in bed too, his fingers brushing back the hairs on Zayn’s forehead gently, but his hips grinding down with an urgency that Zayn feels curling in his stomach.

Zayn wishes they had remembered to turn on the light when Liam moans. The only source of light comes from the window, and it glows against the skin of Liam’s throat as his head tilts back. Zayn reaches between them, more confidence starting to seep through him from how responsive he is. Liam’s cock is thicker, heavier in his hand than his own. He thinks he could come just from _thinking_ the stretch around Liam -

“Let me,” Liam practically growls, swatting Zayn’s hand away. Zayn slides his knees up, hand reaching to grip at his back instead to keep him close while Liam curls his fist around the both of them. There’s no teasing, no hesitation in the way he pumps them, like he too is as desperate as Zayn.

“Liam,” Zayn gasps, hips bucking up towards the man. There’s a smile curling on Liam’s lips, on the edge of cocky, as he leans down to slot their lips together. It’s less of a kiss and more of teeth knocking, lips bruising against each other.

He’s been mesmerized by the deep of Liam’s voice, but it’s nothing compared to the moans rumbling from his throat, the hoarse way he groans Zayn’s name. And though Zayn had imagined something like this over again in his head, it didn’t even come close to how Liam sounds.

Each flick of Liam’s wrist, the hard slide of Liam’s cock against his own, pulls Zayn closer. He wraps his hand over Liam’s as he starts to tremble, shaking as he attempts to keep himself up.

“Zayn, I’m going –“ Liam warns, teeth biting violently down at his bottom lip.

Liam’s strokes stagger, his fist squeezing on the edge of painful as warm liquid soaks down their fingers, streaking between their abdomens. Zayn wants to imprint the sound Liam makes as he comes in his brain forever, fucking make a song out of it and listen to it on replay. His brain definitely could have never imagined something like _that_.

“Your turn,” Liam challenges, breathing heavily. He lowers himself, crowding in Zayn’s space more so he can feel the heavy rise and fall of his chest against his own. _And if you’ll be my strawberry bubblegum, then I’ll be your blueberry lollipop_

Liam smiles against his mouth when he comes quickly after, back arching into the hard body above him. Strong arms close around him as the trembles rip down his limbs and there’s gentle fingers running through his hair again.

“How am I supposed to pay attention in class when I know that’s how you sound when you come?” Liam laughs, pressing wet kisses around Zayn’s mouth. He tugs Zayn’s bottom lip into his mouth, sucking gently before he rolls to the side.

“Might have to sneak off,” Zayn teases back.

The energy around them sizzles out slowly, settling into a calm that sits heavy in the air. Liam slides an arm around Zayn’s shoulders as he rolls onto his back, allowing Zayn to curl against him.

“Sorry, Dr. P. Zayn and I have very important business to attend to,” Liam practices, giggling before he finishes.

Zayn snorts. “Not obvious at all. I think we’ll definitely get away with it.”

Liam’s fingers skate across his skin, down the ink covering his arms and slipping across his back. He slips his feet under the comforter where it is bundled at the end of the bed as if it will warm his bare body. Liam’s warm against him, his skin still flushed though their breathing has calmed.

“Will you stay?” Zayn whispers, shifting his head so his cheek rests against Liam’s chest. He can hear the steady rhythm of his heart, matching the pace of his own. He has no right to ask, has no right to expect Liam to. He doesn’t even know what proper protocol is after you hook up with someone you’ve just met.

“Well, it is dangerous out there.” Liam giggles quietly, pulling Zayn tighter to him as if to say _I’m not going anywhere._ He slides his feet under the comforter too, his toes cold against Zayn’s warmed skin. Neither one of them move from their positions to pull the comforter up the rest of the way, and Zayn doesn’t care if the part of his skin not touching Liam’s is cold or not.

And it’s silly and stupid of Zayn to feel so comforted, but he’ll deal with the smile that lines his lips as he falls asleep at another time.

 

Zayn feels like his bones are too heavy, sinking him into the mattress. He doesn’t want to get up, but he forgot to close the blinds the night before so the sun is biting at the back of his eye lids. He groans, stretching out his body and-

An arm curls tighter across his torso, calling attention to the hard warmth pressed to his spine. _Liam._

He’s breathing softly, lips laying against the back of Zayn’s neck. Zayn stills, nerves making his stomach twist. He wants to soak in Liam’s warmth, appreciate the moment before he wakes and mutters out some awkward ‘thanks for last night, see ya later’. He seems politer than that though, maybe he’ll even give Zayn a kiss goodbye.

Liam’s hand moves up his torso, flattening against his chest. “What time is it?” he mumbles, voice heavy with sleep.

“Dunno,” Zayn whispers, hesitantly tracing his finger along Liam’s knuckles. It feels like they’ve only been asleep for a second, and he’s not even sure what time it had been when they had returned to his dorm.

“Don’t wanna get up,” Liam groans. He nips gently at the skin where his lips are pressed, and Zayn can feel the smile on his lips.

He’s spent the last week being overwhelmed by how attractive Liam is, but he doesn’t think anything can compare to the face he gets when he rolls over. Liam’s got a smile lazy on his lips, his eyes droopy and swollen as they blink open. Cuddly, he thinks might be a good word for him. He’ll have to explore other languages to find words to better describe Liam, because English isn't doing him justice.

“You don’t have to,” Zayn says quietly, voice wavering from Liam’s fingers trailing up his back. One of his hands cups the back of his neck, and Zayn can’t help but slide his eyes across Liam’s lips. The bottom is tinged purple, bruised and swollen and something like pride swells in Zayn because _he did that._

“If I don’t get up eventually, I may never leave,” Liam chuckles, repeating himself from last night. He leans his head forward, eyes asking for permission before Zayn closes the space between them, letting their lips slot together slowly. He hopes his breath doesn’t smell from the alcohol the night before, or that his lips aren’t too chapped from sleeping in the dry air of his room.

It must be fine, because Liam sighs contently against his lips before pulling away. “But I don’t think my coach would be too happy with me if I skipped practice.”

Zayn wishes the warmth didn’t seep out of him at Liam’s words. He nods, keeping the frown to himself. Liam’s eyes narrow curiously and he moves his hand to run a thumb across Zayn’s cheek.

“Doing anything later today, though? Practice is done about one, and there’s another party tonight if you want to go. Or we can hang out before, or during. Whatever.”

Zayn’s lips quirk up, and he hides it in the way he presses their lips back together. Hopefully not too eagerly.

They stay like that for a while, Liam repeating over and over between kisses that he _really should_ go, hands roaming over each other, making it harder for either one of them to get up. Finally with a groan, Liam pulls himself out of Zayn’s bed, a regretful smile on his lips as he reaches for his clothes.

When Liam’s got his pants on, turning around so Zayn can no longer admire the hard planes of his back, he leans over to press a kiss to Zayn’s lips. “I’m going to write my number down on your desk. Better not blow me off.”

Liam’s voice is light with humor, but there’s no joking in the promise of “I won’t” that Zayn gives him. Liam nods, pressing another kiss to his lips like he can’t resist.

Zayn sits up, reaching for the first pair of joggers he sees in the dirty laundry bin before shucking them on. Liam waits by the door as he reaches for his keys and phone. He adjusts himself in his pants, trying not to look at Liam while he does because that won’t help the growing length of his cock. Liam’s really going to ruin him.

“Put your number in while I walk you down. Proper gent and all that,” Zayn jokes, handing Liam the phone.

Liam keeps his fingers against Zayn’s skin on the way down, and Zayn’s desperate for a cigarette as Liam kisses him once more outside, even though there’s people already shuffling their way around the court yard. He inhales the smoke, letting it calm the heavy beat of his heart as he watches Liam walk off.

There are a few missed texts from Louis when he looks at his phone. He ignores them, instead swiping his thumb at the Instagram notification from Liam.

Their faces are tinged a dark blue from the dark and it’s a bit grainy and hard to see, but Zayn likes it. He feels a warmth burning across his skin, and it’s not from the too bright sun, but the caption that reads, “me and this cutie @niazkilam”.

He’s going to have to make sure he doesn’t even think about Liam around Louis or he’s never going to hear the end of it. He probably looks like the heart eyed emoticon, and he’s glad he can’t see his own expression.

 

“Did you sleep with Liam last night? Payno? Harry Styles’ best mate?” Louis nearly shouts as soon as he walks into the dorm a little bit after Liam left.

“No,” Zayn replies offhandedly, not looking up from the book he has perched on his lap. He’s already texted Liam his number, after too many minutes of wondering if it was too soon to text the man.

(And he was not going to admit to the goofy smile that was on his face when he saw the heart eye emoticon Liam had put after the Payno – which he had changed to Liam, because Payno just didn’t feel right to him.)

“Bullshit. Liam’s quite fit, nothing to be ashamed of,” Louis continues on, flopping down beside him.

Zayn turns a page. He doesn’t really feel like talking about it. He’s trying to wrap his head around the fact that Liam’s showed any interest towards him at all, let alone spent the night with him. “I’m not ashamed. We didn’t sleep together, though. Did you sleep with Harry?”

Louis’ lips slap shut, eyes narrowing. An obvious yes written in the blush across his cheeks. “You’re rude, Zayn. Dick has changed you.”

Zayn shoves Louis off his bed, chuckling at the stream of obscenities that follows.

“Not fair. I share everything with you,” Louis says as he gets up, flicking him off.

“No one asked you to,” Zayn reminds him.

He spends a majority of the day in the library after skyping with his sisters, attempting to stay up on his homework, but it’s difficult to pay attention when his mind keeps straying to the memory of Liam’s lips against his skin.

And he feels like a school boy, his cheeks tinging pink when Liam texts him after practice. Louis’ excessive use of emoticons can get on his nerves sometimes, but he finds himself thinking Liam’s are _endearing._

Zayn has to give up on the library when he realizes his eyes haven’t left the phone propped in his book, because Liam’s texting back just as fast as him. And he’s fucking cute, and attractive and –

Zayn drops his head on the table, silently groaning to himself. What has he gotten himself into? Crushes can’t be his thing, he’s absolute shit at them.

Louis and Alex, his mate from back home, used to always tell him that when he fell, he fell hard and fast. Not that he has fallen, but it sure feels like he’s going to. He’s only truly fancied a few people in his life at least, which he hopes makes up for it.

There was the red head when he was twelve that he used to send poems to he found online, sneaking them in her desk when she wasn’t looking, ignoring the way she giggled with her friends over it, because he was too young to realize it wasn’t a good kind of laughter.

There was Pez in Year 10, who he used to doodle in the edges of his notebook when he was supposed to be paying attention in Maths. She had laughed at them, but Zayn couldn’t find it in himself to mind when they were rolling around in her bed after school hours.  Because even though he was a romantic, as Louis always called him, he didn’t mind the soft feeling of her thighs wrapped around his waist.

And then there was Jack, who he had met through Louis when they were in Year 12. Jack hadn’t laughed at his shows of affection, but Zayn realized getting ignored was just as bad as being made fun of.

None of them were as soft around the edges as Liam. They lacked the kindness and sincerity, the gentleness. Zayn has to remind himself over and over he doesn’t know Liam very well, but the want to get to know him is making that feel less important.

 

“We’re going to make a social man out of you yet, Malik,” Louis greets when Zayn finds him in the back of the dining hall, back facing the windows that stretch to the ceiling.

“Harry said there’s another party tonight. He really emphasized that you need to come. I think for you boyf,” Louis goes on.  “So get all your library time in now, because I’m not letting you stay in the dorm doing _homework_ , Zayn, so don’t use that as an excuse.”

Zayn feels his cheeks heat up. Liam had only mentioned it this morning, but he hadn’t yet whilst they were texting. “Sounds cool,” Zayn tries for casual, but his reddened face betrays him. “And I just got back from the library.”

“Of course you did,” Louis snorts. “Your overachieving is making me look bad, you know.”

Zayn looks up from his phone. _havn a serious debate w/ harry about surviving off just bananas hes a banana_

“To who?” he asks incredulously. _He might become one if he does that, aha :D_

“I don’t know, Zayn. Not the point,” Louis snaps back. “I’m just happy you are going out again with us.”

“Awe,” he teases, reaching out to tickle his fingers against Louis’ arm, leaning back in his chair when Louis goes to swat at him. “I love you too, Lou-Lou.”

“Shut up, or I’ll tell Doniya you hooked up with someone,” Louis threatens, pointing his fork at him.

“Can we stop talking about it? Yeah?” Zayn asks as politely as he can. He turns his attention back to his conversation with Liam because he is way nicer than Louis.

 

It’s not that Zayn hates parties, or hates being social – it’s just the time leading up to it he’s so nervous, he usually doesn’t end up going through with it. It’s the thoughts of, “is what I’m wearing okay? Do I just walk in the house if they can’t hear my knocking? Should I be on time or late? What do I do when I get inside?” that make him want to curl up in his bed because that’s something he knows how to do just fine.

He hates that, really, but he can’t help it. Shirts are scattered across his bed where he threw them after shucking them off in frustration because none say, “yeah, wear me,” and it’s stupid because he wears these shirts all the time. He bought them because he liked them, but he can’t find one that he likes right now in this moment.

“This one,” Louis suggests, throwing the red Henley Zayn had worn earlier in the week. “If Liam and you didn’t have sex last night, you will tonight in that thing.”

“I just met him,” Zayn reminds him, putting the shirt on anyway. It is one of his favorites. He likes the dip of the color that reveals the wings inked on his chest, and how it’s tight but not uncomfortably so.

“Lots of people hook up when they just meet,” Louis explains to him. He reaches out, pinching a sensitive piece of skin on Zayn’s neck, bruised from the night before. “You do remember telling me you needed the room last night, yeah?”

He had heard all the details of Louis’ night with Harry during dinner, making him lose his appetite. And yeah, he knows people hook up, and he doesn’t regret hooking up it’s just –

Liam, fucking Liam. Perfect, can’t be real, how does he exist, _Liam._ Who shouldn’t even bat an eye in Zayn’s direction, but somehow ended up in his bed, just as eager as him. Maybe he should just enjoy the weekend and he’ll deal with the week as it comes.

“And you’re practically swooning over the bloke. Let yourself live, Zayn.”

 

Zayn tries his best not to search for Liam as he follows behind Harry and Louis. He really does, but he can’t help the way his eyes search the crowd in hopes of spotting him. Harry leads them upstairs, where he hadn’t gone last time. There’s a lot more people up there, a lot of rooms, and the pungent smell of marijuana smoke filling the hallway.

And to his disappointment, Liam’s not in the room that Harry leads them to. It must be a game room of some sort, because it’s quite large and there’s a pool table sitting in the middle of it. He considers texting Liam, but instead he excuses himself to look a bit more as Harry takes a joint being offered to him from some guy he hopefully knows.

A few people greet him as he walks through the house, and he nods back. He recognizes a few people from the night before, but he can’t seem to recall any of their names, which is bad he _knows_. But he’s always been shit at remembering people’s names.

“Zayner!” There’s a hand clapping on his shoulder, dragging him to a stop. He recognizes the thick Irish accent before he turns around to Niall’s friendly face. “Nice seein’ ye again. Lookin’ for the Payno?”

“Maybe a drink too,” Zayn says thickly. He’s nervous again, and he’s starting to get really annoyed with himself. He had almost convinced himself not to come, and despite Louis’ threats, it was Liam’s simple text that made him take a deep breath and just get it over with.

_hope to see you tonight ? :D_ _  
_

“Ay, all around the same place. C’mon, I’ll show ya.”

Zayn follows behind him, a hand hovering behind his back in case he has to grab onto Niall at a moment’s notice. People seem to already be drunk, staggering and bumping into each other. It’s probably what he dislikes most about parties, especially large ones like this. He hadn’t realized how large the red door house was the night before. It’s not a dorm, and he’s confused on who actually lives here.

He says that much to Niall. “The football team, varsity kids. Well, except for Liam, o’course since he’s only in his first year.”

“They get their own house?” Zayn scoffs. “Sorry, if you live here but that’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“Nah, I don’t live here technically. One of me mates is captain, so I’m always here, though,” Niall explains. “And don’t apologize, it is stupid the way they praise the team, but hey – they’re fucking good.”

He’s never particularly been a fan of sports, but he finds a good reason to in the kitchen. 

Liam’s leaning against the counter, hand curled tight around the neck of a beer bottle as he talks animatedly to the group of guys around him. Liam seems small in comparison to some of them, which is strange. He remembers feeling so small pressed against Liam’s chest the night before.

And fuck, he didn’t realize how much he liked that feeling.

Zayn watches him off to the side, only taking his eyes away when a laughing Niall passes him a drink. Liam has the whole room captivated in whatever story he’s telling. Zayn included.

“He’s not lying, it was sick man –“ continues a taller man with a mane of blond hair that stands in front of Zayn. His arms start swaying as he acts something out, and Zayn has to take a step back so he doesn’t get an elbow to the nose. It may be a big house, but it’s not a large enough kitchen to fit the whole footie team.

Liam’s face softens when he looks over and his eyes land on Zayn. He pushes the blond man to the side easily, despite their size differences, to reach out for him.

Zayn doesn’t expect him to show him any attention, especially affection, around his friends, but Liam slides an arm around his waist, pulling him up against his side and Zayn is beaming. He knows his smile probably looks goofy and dumb, pushing into his cheeks like a toddler getting a lollipop.

“Glad you came,” Liam whispers quietly, lips brushing against Zayn’s ear. He adjusts the snapback on his head and that topped with the first few buttons of his shirt being undone, Zayn’s sure he dressed with the intent of killing him.

“I was hoping to run into this fit guy from one of my classes. Can’t seem to find him.”

Liam pouts, pinching his side playfully and Zayn wants to kiss him, wants to kiss him badly. “And I thought what we had was special.”

Zayn’s opening his mouth for a retort when the man that had been talking after Liam claps a hand to Zayn’s shoulder. “Ah, looks like we’ve found the culprit!”

“Excuse me?” Zayn croaks. He steps out of the man’s grasp, crowding farther into Liam’s space.

The man laughs. “Been waiting to meet the vampire that got ahold of Liam’s neck last night,” he explains, reaching to pinch a faded bruise beside Liam's birth mark.

“Shove off,” Liam says. It’s not harsh, but his arm tights around Zayn before he leans in, whispering, “That’s Andy. He’s on the team. Thinks he’s a comedian.”

Liam’s fingers rub comforting circles at his hip. He’s wearing the softest smile Zayn’s seen yet and Zayn’s debating the pros and cons of kissing him right here in front of all of his friends when Andy claps him on the back again.

Zayn really hopes he stops doing that.

“We’ve got a round of pong upstairs if you’re down. Zayn, right?” He waits for Zayn to nod before continuing. “Payno thinks he can beat me, but I reckon he’ll mess up trying to show off.”

“He beats you easy, every time mate. ‘Bout time you accept that,” Niall cackles from where he’s grabbing cups off the counter. He shoves a stack of them at Andy. “Leave Zayner alone, yeah? Liam was a right gent when he met Daisie.”

“Want to play?” Liam whispers under the other boy’s banter. Zayn gives him a half committed shrug. He just wants to be around Liam, really. He doesn’t care what they do as long as Zayn has an excuse to look at him. “I promise they’re alright, and if they’re not we can leave?”

He’s not sure why Liam’s so kind to him, but it makes him want to shrink himself and hide away in the pocket of Liam’s shirt. “Sounds alright, yeah.”

They move to the porch outside. There’s already a foldable table set up and Niall and Andy arrange the cups into a pyramid on each side. Liam’s filling up the cups on their side, wiggling his hips as he sings along to the muffled music.

“I have to be honest, I am a bit shit at this game,” Zayn admits sheepishly. He’s never actually played would be the whole truth. “And if you keep doing that, it’s just going to make me worse.”

Liam straightens up to press a cup into Zayn’s hands. “I would say I’m good enough that it’s okay if you’re shit, but I’m pretty distracted by how badly I want to kiss you and I’m not sure how that will affect my game.”

Zayn takes a sip of the beer to hide the smile breaking across his lips. “You can – when you want, that is. I won’t mind.”

Liam’s eyes go squinty as he smiles. He doesn’t lean in to kiss him, however. Instead, Liam returns to filling up the cups before them.

Liam is good. He makes his first three shots, while Andy only gets one and Zayn misses them all. Liam’s got a hand around his waist as Andy’s partner, Tom maybe, has his turn.

“Drink, Zayn!” Tom laughs as his ball sloshes the contents of a drink in front of him. Liam drinks with him, though it’s not his turn, and it continues that way, every time Zayn has to drink – Liam does too.

And Zayn keeps missing because Liam’s wiggling his hips, singing along to any tune that plays with a laugh in his voice that is making it harder and harder for Zayn to keep his lips away. He even presses a cigarette between them to hopefully serve as a distraction.

“Are you distracting me on purpose?” Zayn asks under his breath after Liam does this provocative little dance that is too similar to the way he was rolling his hips on top of his the night before. He stopped now that it’s his turn to throw, and he’s rolling the ball around in his hand as he looks at Zayn, his eyes seeming even darker though porch light shines from them. He doesn’t respond, but the smile on his lips says yes.

Zayn doesn’t think about it before he’s moving his head to the space between Liam’s shoulder and jaw when Liam goes to throw, latching his teeth down on the soft flesh there. Liam tenses, gasping as the ball shoots from his fingers.

“Unfair,” Liam groans, arm tightening around Zayn. There’s a smile on his lips that Zayn wants to take a picture of and share with all fifteen of his Instagram followers. “We’re on the same team.”

“Aye!” one of the other boys shouts, throwing the ball so it bounces off Liam’s arm.

“If only your shot is that good when you’re aiming for the cup,” Niall laughs, kicking his feet from where he’s sitting on another table. Zayn had somehow forgotten the amount of people surrounding them and he takes a step away from Liam, cheeks burning.

Zayn’s starting to feel drunk, but he can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol in his system or the way Liam keeps touching him, fingers burning against the bare skin of his back. Or the way he throws his head back in laughter, or the way he seems to catch a ball flying too high in Zayn’s direction with such ease, though his own throws are starting to get a bit sloppy and he’s missing more than he had when the game started.  

And when Louis stumbles upon them, drunkenly telling Liam to be careful with his best mate, it’s the way Liam promises to with such sincerity that Zayn’s grabbing at the back of his neck with a confidence he hadn’t had before.

Liam’s smiling before their lips meet, matching the one on Zayn’s lips. There is hooting and hollering around them, mostly from Andy and Niall probably, but all Zayn can hear is the quiet rumble in Liam’s chest, vibrating through his throat, and sounding against his tongue as he slides it across Liam’s bottom lip.

It’s a short kiss, Liam pulling away first to whisper against his lips. “Let’s whoop some ass and get out of here, yeah?”

 

Zayn’s back hits hard against the door of – well, he’s not really sure where they are. It’s a bathroom, but he doesn’t remember too much about how they got there to know _where_ he is. But that’s a thought way in the back of his mind, not seeming important enough to focus on when Liam’s lips are latching onto his.

He’s like putty in Liam’s hands, molding against his chest and letting Liam maneuver them around. The edge of the sink digs into Zayn’s lower back and Liam’s lifting him to sit on it, his legs wrapping around Liam’s thighs tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Liam groans, nipping harshly at Zayn’s jaw. “It’s just – do you know how hard it was for me to keep my hands off of you?”

“Not complaining,” Zayn chuckles, tugging at the hem of Liam’s shirt so he can fit a hand underneath. Liam’s decided to wear the thinnest fucking shirt, and it clings to the soft of his hips, stretches across the hard of his chest and drives Zayn a bit fucking mad.

“No?” Liam breathes as he takes his snapback off to settle it on Zayn’s head.

“No,” he confirms, tugging Liam so their hips can press together. “Prettiest man I’ve ever seen. So hot, Leem.So mellow, mellow, mellow, my strawberry bubblegum.”

Liam’s head tilts back as he laughs, and Zayn smiles sheepishly against his skin. “Did you just sing Justin Timberlake to me?”

Zayn shrugs. “I’ll be your blueberry lollipop,” he continues. He can’t tell if his words are slurred, but his tongue feels heavy in his mouth. Liam hums the beat, scraping his lips along Zayn’s forehead.

“I sing much better when I’m not drunk,” Zayn promises, rolling his hips forward.

Liam pulls his head back as Zayn’s tries to cover more of his skin with the palm of his hands. He’s no longer moving, just holding Zayn so he doesn’t fall off the sink because Zayn can’t stop touching him either and it feels like he’s spinning, or the room is. He can’t tell anymore.

“How drunk are you, babe?”

Zayn shrugs, leaning forward to press kisses along Liam’s jaw. “Dunno.”

Liam sighs, hands cupping his face when he presses their lips together lightly. “C’mon.” He helps Zayn off the sink, lifting him easily and placing him carefully on the ground.

Zayn doesn’t recognize where they are as Liam guides him. It feels like a short distance, but - holy shit how long have they been walking? He has to lean into Liam for support because for some reason his feet aren’t working the way he needs them to and he feels like he’s falling. “Maybe I already fell.”

“What?” Liam asks. Zayn shakes his head. They’re in another unfamiliar room, and there’s a large print of Captain America on the wall that makes him giggle. Okay, he’s definitely drunk now if he’s seeing Steve Rogers.

“Holy shit,” Zayn murmurs, shaking his head in amazement. “Fucking Steve.”

Liam sits on a bed opposite of the poster, to tug him between his knees. “Got a bit of an obsession, okay?” he says defensively as Zayn holds onto his shoulders. Liam’s fingers move to unbutton his jeans and slip them down past his hips, maneuvering Zayn so he’s sitting on the bed, to tug them the rest of the way off.

And Zayn doesn’t resist, letting the other man move him around like a rag doll. No, Liam’s too gentle with him. Move him around like a _porcelain doll_.

“Stay there,” Liam murmurs, pressing his lips to Zayn’s forehead. Zayn grips out for him, but he’s moving away from the bed swiftly and there’s – holy shit, there’s two of him. “I’ve somehow managed to stumble upon heaven,” he murmurs more so to himself than to Liam.

Liam helps slide Zayn’s legs through a pair of his joggers, pressing his lips to the inside of Zayn’s calf as he lifts it. He can’t help but stare, laying there helpless. He’s so gentle – both of the Liam’s are.

“D’you know how beautiful you are?” Liam asks. His voice is full of wonder like it’s not meant to compliment, but because he really wants to know. He stretches across him, to press their lips together, keeping his body braced up as not to crush Zayn. It’s a bit uncomfortable with Zayn’s legs hanging off the bed, but it only lasts a second before Liam’s moving them again so they’re lying next to each other properly.

Zayn wonders if he can feel how hard he is since his length is pressing into Liam’s thigh, but Liam is petting his hair instead of pinning him down like Zayn wants so he must not, and he pouts.

“Liam,” he breathes, scratching his fingers down Liam’s chest, shucking up his shirt so he can drag his fingers down the trail of hair on his stomach. “D’you know how beautiful you are?” he repeats.

Liam’s breathing hitches when Zayn slides his hand across the bulge under the soft material of his joggers. “Do you know how difficult you make this?”

His voice isn’t harsh, still as gentle as always, but it rings through Zayn roughly like he’s being scolded. “What?” he asks with confusion. Liam’s hard too, really fucking hard, and he doesn’t understand why Liam is closing his eyes tightly like he hates it. He slides his fingers away, but keeps them lingering on top of Liam’s shirt.

Liam’s face is soft when he looks at Zayn, but his voice is strained. “Let’s just sleep yeah?”

Zayn flinches, pulling his fingers away from Liam completely. “Yeah, okay.”

“In the morning,” Liam promises, brushing his lips against Zayn’s and pulling Zayn’s hand back to rest on his chest.

He wants to ask if he did something wrong, but his words come out thick and mumbled as he closes his eyes. His head is swarming and heavy as he grips onto Liam until sleep washes over him.

 

His body feels like it’s falling, sinking into the overly soft mattress. It’s too soft, uncomfortable even, and Zayn feels like his back is breaking. He blinks, clearing his eyes to find Captain America staring back at him. It’s a movie poster for Winter Soldier, and _what._

"What the fuck," Zayn groans, pushing himself up to look around the room. His eyes scan over the clothes scattering the floor, seeing his own jeans thrown across the sneakers he had been wearing.

It’s when his eyes land on the thick framed glasses placed on the nightstand that he realizes the scent covering the sheets is Liam’s. The panic that had been starting to build in him relaxes, and he falls back. His head hurts, but not bad enough that it makes him sick. And he’s _fucking hard._ He rolls on his stomach so he can hide the tenting of the unfamiliar joggers.

Zayn huffs out a laugh as his eyes scan the cartoon Batmans scattered across the pillow. Memories of the night before are fuzzy, bits and pieces being hard to recall. He doesn’t remember leaving the party, nor coming to Liam’s room. Not that he _minds_ at all.

The door creaks, and there’s the soft sound of feet padding along the floor before the bed dips down. Liam’s strong arms wrap around him and he tangles his bare legs with Zayn’s. It’s so –

Zayn’s not sure if he wants to put a name to it.

“Morning,” he grumbles. He wants to go back to sleep so he can feel what it feels like to wake up next to Liam again, savor it one last time.

“Afternoon,” Liam corrects with a chuckle, pressing his lips to Zayn’s forehead. He smells like toothpaste, and the blanket of hair on his jaw is no longer there, instead replaced with the sharp scent of after shave.  

“Only afternoon? Good, that means I have more time to sleep,” he jokes, but he’s awake now. “I mean, if it’s okay if I stay.”

Liam nods. “Yeah, of course. You don’t mind, um like being here? In my bed? I just didn’t know if I’d be able to make it across campus last night.”

“It’s okay, yeah. I didn’t mind waking up to Steve Rogers,” he snickers playfully.

Liam rolls onto his back, groaning. “It’s my attempt at impressing you,” he jokes back easily. “Did it work?”

“Don’t have to try hard for me, babe,” Zayn whispers, fingers sliding across Liam’s torso so he’ll move closer to him. “You wear a suit like that and I’m yours.”

Liam’s laugh gets cut off when their lips press together, and it’s awkward because Zayn refuses to roll over from the position on his stomach. Not that having a morning wood is embarrassing, but it is actually.

“You know,” Liam whispers, trailing his lips along the back of Zayn’s shoulders. Fingers shuck up the material of his shirt to smooth a hand up his spine. “If you’re down, I did promise you we could pick up where we left off last night this morning.”

“Where’d we leave off?” Zayn murmurs, nervous about admitting to not remembering. He shivers when Liam’s lips slide across the back of his neck, his tongue stretching out to lick under the collar of his shirt.

“We didn’t do anything, don’t worry,” Liam explains. He wasn’t worried about it, really, he’s more worried about whether or not he voiced the corny, embarrassing things he thinks about him. “Making out, some grinding but nothing more.”

Liam shucks the shirt high up into his armpits so he can move his lips where the shirt had been. He rolls his tongue like he’s savoring the flavor of Zayn’s skin and Zayn squeezes his fingers into the sheets to stop himself from grinding his hips down into the mattress. “I think um – I might be down, uh -to continue,” he manages, words sounding more choked than he’d like.

Liam’s teeth nip into the skin at the bottom of his spine before he’s moving his lips dangerously close to the top of Zayn’s ass. His legs spread unconsciously, allowing Liam to move so his body is in-between them. “Yeah, definitely down,” he groans.

Liam chuckles, sliding the palm of his hands roughly up the back of Zayn’s thighs. He’s still wearing the joggers, and he tries to twist his head enough to see Liam but it hurts his neck too much. “What do you want me to do?” Liam asks, voice hushed.

“I – I don’t care, Liam,” Zayn says honestly. Whatever involves Liam touching him in some way. He’s a bit desperate for it, really, but he bites those words back.  

Teeth dig into the curve of his ass as Liam groans, hands sliding to cup his hips. Zayn’s mewling, hips pushing back towards Liam because his mouth is _so close_. “Turn over, babe.”

Zayn rolls to his back, spreading his legs again. He reaches, tugging at the lip of Liam’s shirt to pull it off. His lips move along Zayn’s stomach, spending time pulling the skin around his navel between his teeth.

He struggles to get his shirt off, and it’s even more difficult to do when Liam’s fingers slip under the joggers to tug them down. At least he’s got his own briefs on, he thinks, because they’re soaked where the tip of his cock presses into the material.

“You were singing Justin Timberlake to me last night,” Liam tells him casually, licking his tongue along the edge of his briefs. He hands rub up and down Zayn’s thighs, thumbs digging in when they reach the softer flesh at the top. Liam’s sinful the way he rolls his tongue around Zayn’s skin, looking up at him while he does so. He feels like he’s coming apart, and he’s going to need to get his shit together so this can last longer.

“Yeah? That’s a bit embarrassing,” he breathes.

“Stop,” Liam says, fingers digging under the briefs. He only pulls them down enough to reveal the start of the thick hair underneath. Zayn stills, wanting to ask Liam what he should stop, but then Liam’s singing. “ _Let me get a good look at it.”_

Zayn wants to laugh as he continues, but Liam’s pressing an open mouth along his cock and he it comes out a choked sound instead. “ _Oh, so thick, now I know why they call it a fatty.”_

“Leeyum,” he groans, hips pressing up to hurry him up. He pulls down the material and and moves his lips to Zayn’s thighs, ignoring his cock lying heavily on his stomach.

“ _Aw, go on and show ‘em who you call Daddy._ ”

“Holy fuck,” Zayn moans, putting a hand over his face to hide how fucking turned on that makes him. His cheeks feel like they’re going to burn off if he keeps singing to him.

Liam curls a hand around him finally, rubbing a thumb along the underside as he positions himself between Zayn’s thighs. “ _Let me show you a few things,”_ he sings under his breath before his tongue is flicking out, rolling along the tip.

It’s impossible to keep quiet like he wants with the way Liam’s wrapping his lips around the head, letting his cock slip along his tongue before he’s pulling off and suckling at the tip. He looks up at Zayn through heavy lidded eyes when he lets his cock slip farther down his throat. They water some as he tries to take as much of Zayn as he can, the palm of his hand covering the rest. Zayn’s not sure what he did to be blessed with such a sight.

He reaches his hands out, splaying across the sides of Liam’s head as he pulls back, sliding back down on him as he builds up a steady rhythm. His own hips are grinding down against the mattress, and he’s moaning around Zayn’s cock filthily.

It’s difficult to keep his hips on the bed, or to keep his hands from pressing Liam’s head down farther. He scratches his fingers along his scalp instead, tightening in the thicker hair at the top when pleasure coils in his abdomen.

Liam moans around him and that’s all it takes before Zayn’s gasping out a warning. Liam sinks farther down, still groaning like he fucking loves Zayn’s come down his throat. He pulls off, hand pumping in the wake of his mouth until Zayn’s hissing from sensitivity.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Zayn gasps as Liam gets up on his knees in front of him. His hands slip under his joggers and Zayn sits up to help shuck them past down his hips.

“Lay back down,” Liam groans, pumping himself urgently. Zayn does, his fingers tugging Liam down with him. Their lips press together around Liam’s moans, his tongue rolling across Zayn’s so he can taste himself. He rubs his hands along Liam’s shoulders, and down his back, stopping they slide across the curve of Liam’s ass.

Liam arches forward, biting hard into the flesh of Zayn’s neck as he comes hotly across Zayn’s bare stomach.

“Should have known you taste as good as you look,” Liam murmurs, breathing heavily as he presses soft kisses to the skin that’s now indented with teeth marks.

“You didn’t let me see if the same goes for you,” Zayn jokes, cupping Liam’s face back up towards his so they can kiss proper.

Liam’s fingers splay in the liquid coating Zayn’s stomach. “Open your mouth,” he whispers. Zayn does and Liam’s running a thumb slowly down the length of his tongue. Zayn’s lip wrap around it before he can pull his thumb away, sucking gently until his mouth is flooded with the musky taste of Liam.

He scrunches up his nose. “Ew, you’re gross. Definitely not the same for you,” he says, laughing around his words. It’s fucking hot, is what it really is, and if Liam keeps it up he’s never going to be able to get rid of him.

Liam laughs too, pinching his sides. “You donut,” he giggles, eyes squeezing closed. Amazing.

“I can’t believe you,” Zayn breathes in awe before he slots their lips back together because he really doesn’t want to explain what he means. Liam doesn’t protest, only rolls them so Zayn’s the one lying on top, letting him take over the kiss until his jaw aches and he’s too tired to do anything else but curl into Liam’s arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somehow this fic became an ode to the 20/20 album? i'm sorry (not really hehe)
> 
> tunnel vision - justin timberlake
> 
> (I got amazing feedback from chapter one and thank you so much for reading and taking your time out to tell me what you think! Please still love me after this one x)

“Hello, sunshine. How was your first week?”

Zayn’s thankful that his mother pretends that he hasn’t called her nearly five times every day since he’s moved in. “Alright. A lot of work already, but the people here are nice.”

 _Liam._ The name’s at the tip of his tongue. He’s hesitant to tell her because she’ll know, like she always does, and there will be questions and he doesn’t have the answers except yeah, ‘we hooked up twice.”

He’s not sure how well his mum would take that.

“That’s good, lovely. Remember what I said about pacing yourself? Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she repeats, like she has done every day. Even before uni, he used to run to her for her patient words when he was too stressed about school work.

“I know mum. I miss you all,” Zayn says thickly around an inhale of smoke, hoping to rid the tight feeling in his chest from his words. He misses waking up to his sisters bickering over breakfast, and picking on him when he’s reading comics on the couch – even though they always end up curling beside him to watch TV.

“We will put something together to get you down here sooner than later,” she promises.

Zayn knows they will try, and he doesn’t tell her that he’s planning to look for a job that week to save up for a trip home (since his savings from the summer barely cover his monthly school payments). He wants it to be a surprise, and he doesn’t want to get his own hopes up.

There’s four months until the break between semesters and he’s not sure if he can wait that long. It’s only been a week and he’s already missed the smell of his mum’s cooking, and the clean linen candle that is always lit in the hallway outside of his bedroom so much that he feels panicked when he thinks about it.

The conversation ends after that, Zayn knowing he could talk to his mum for hours because if she was busy she’d never say so. And she probably is because it’s hardly eight in the morning, and she’ll have to get the girls up because Wali won’t get out of bed unless she’s pressured to.

Zayn had showered and dressed, having woken up too early from dreams of brown eyes and rosy swollen pinks swirling in his mind, and had been trying to put off his morning cigarette. Class doesn’t start for another two hours and he’s anxious to see Liam again.

Liam, who had insisted that he really did want Zayn to stay all day, he was definitely not a bother, (though now that Zayn thinks about it, over and over, he’s a bit embarrassed for expressing his concerns) and though his body aches he’s got that stupid smile on his face again thinking about the pressure of Liam’s body against his and that stupid giggling into his shoulder thing he does.

Liam, who had insisted on walking Zayn back to his dorm even though he was perfectly capable of getting back safely and it wasn’t even that late – and who had kissed him goodbye, even though there were plenty of people around who could see. And it made his heart beat too fast in his chest thinking maybe it could be like this longer than just a weekend.

Zayn groans around where the cigarette is pressed between his lips, fingerings dragging against his scalp. Thoughts that kept him up the night before linger in his mind still, no matter how hard he tries to divert them. What is he supposed to do when he sees Liam in class? Act casual? He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to wipe the fond from his face if there was a gun pointed to his head.

 _Just a weekend_. It keeps playing over, like an alarm he’s unable to turn off. It felt like a month at least, two days spent in Liam’s world – Liam’s arms. And it was a good fucking two days.

He opens up the Instagram app, clicking the search button where he knows _fakeliampayne_ will be waiting. The most recent photo is of him, the back of him actually, as he sits on the ledge outside of Liam’s dorm building. His hair looks a complete wreck, matted and sticking out all over the place, and he’s wearing a shirt with cut off sleeves that he knicked from Liam’s closet, so it hangs loosely around his shoulders. His head is turned slightly, capturing the shape of his jaw and for a moment, he lets himself consider that he might be as pretty as Liam.

‘ _bad man ha !_ ’

Zayn can’t help smile when he reads the caption. Liam had muttered it against his shoulder after he had lit up, voice tilted with humor and maybe something like admiration.

But that’s not something he can wrap his head around, so he makes sure to shove that thought to the farthest part of his mind.

 

He should have passed on the second cup of coffee. It’s making his stomach feel sour and tight, and mixed with the nerves it could turn into a mess.

And that makes him even more nervous, really.

And he needs to stop getting to class so early. Every minute that passes feels like an hour, and there’s still six more left until the professor comes.

“Hey.”

It’s soft spoken and Liam’s got a lazy smile on his lips, his red tinted cheeks pushed up high. There’s something fragile about him, and it’s fitting even though everything about him reminds Zayn of _strong._ He takes Harry’s seat instead of his usual, and it’s so insignificant but Zayn is leaping inside.

“Hey you,” Zayn repeats, just as softly. “Morning.”

Something twists in his chest more so than his stomach when his eyes scan over the litter of reds and purples marking Liam’s neck and the way Liam’s collar hangs low like he doesn’t care if anyone sees the ones disappearing underneath it.

They’ll fade off like the weekend had, but Zayn’s glad for the temporary reminders.

Zayn bites his lip because he can’t help it and Liam chuckles like he understands, reaching out to brush a finger across his jaw. “D’you want to work on the paper due next week sometime? Like after a movie or um, coffee or something?”

“Very romantic, Payne,” he snorts over the screaming of “yes, yes!” in his head. _More than a weekend_ overpowers worried thoughts of only a weekend, and there’s too much hope in those four words.

Liam curls into his shoulder, giggling. Maybe he’ll fight Liam instead of kiss him if he keeps doing that. “That’s only a taste. Wait until I bring out the big guns – super cheesy.”

Zayn should be embarrassed by the way he smiles at his lap but Liam burns so bright it’s difficult to look at.

“You’ve taken my seat, prick. I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules,” Harry interrupts, walking between the chairs to slide into the one Liam usually occupies. “Social rules, that is.”

Liam doesn’t look away when he responds with, “Well, I think this is an exception to the rules, Styles.”

Harry grimaces, glancing between the two of them. Zayn’s biting the inside of his cheek, trying not to smile like an idiot – though he’s sure he is anyway but he can’t stop because Liam’s looking at him with that same goofy grin he always wears – when Harry pulls out his phone and snaps a photo.

“I’m just sending it to Lou!” Harry yelps when they turn to glare, Liam reaching out to flick the back of his head. “We knew you guys were going to be gross.”

Zayn’s retort falls short on his tongue when the last of the students file in, and the professor clears his throat from the front of the room. He thinks it’s them that are gross actually. He heard too much last night about the way Harry looks when he comes, so vividly detailed that maybe it should be Louis who majors in English and not him, because he’s been struggling to find the words to describe Liam.

Harry gives him a mischievous smirk halfway through class when his phone lights up, and Zayn sees the photo Harry snapped. He saves it to his phone, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself like smiling from a fool when Liam glances over at him curiously.

 

Zayn finds a job, thankfully much easier than he had anticipated. It’s a fancy little restaurant about five minutes from the end of campus, attached to a brand hotel, probably there to give the town a fancier appearance for families visiting the school. And it pays well, tip and hourly wise, and Zayn feels elated when the owner immediately tells him he’s hired to host.

He had been hoping for a job with a little less customer service, but he was desperate and unable to deny anything that would pay him, and at least he wasn’t waiting tables. Not that there was anything wrong with that, it just makes his heart race out of his chest when he thinks about if he was doing that.

“I’m proud of you, sunshine. When do you start?”

He had tried – really he _did_ \- not to call his mum as soon as he left the restaurant, since he had already called her twice that day, but he couldn’t help it. “Wednesday and Thursday I have training and then my schedule gets made, I think.”

“Just remember, school work comes first,” she reminds him.

“I know, Mummy. I know,” he drones out. “I love you.”

“Your baba and I love you too, honey. Talk to you tomorrow.”

The walk back to campus isn’t long, but he knows when the weather starts to turn cold it’ll feel like it lasts forever. Louis had offered him a ride, but he had to get used to the walk. He wasn’t going to rely on Louis every day.

 

“Liam,” Zayn groans, head smacking hard against the wall. It stings, but he doesn’t care when Liam’s teeth scrape at the trail of hair disappearing under his briefs. They were supposed to be working on their homework, but if you were to ask him at the moment what they were working on – he couldn’t tell you.

It’s probably his fault they’ve ended up here, unable to keep the groan from passing his lips when Liam massaged his fingers too roughly into the junction of his shoulder as he read.

He couldn’t help it. He had been distracted by the warmth of Liam’s body beside him, shirt shucked up just enough to show the start of his abdomen and he hasn’t really been able to stop thinking about what it feels to touch him since the last time had the chance to.

(To the point where he actually had to excuse himself from class like they joked because he had slipped into thoughts of stretching around Liam, arms tight around the other’s torso to keep them flushed together instead of focusing on differences of citations for the paper he couldn’t afford to fail.)

“Hm?”  Liam hums, palms sliding up his inner thighs to spread them farther. He fits perfectly in between like he was made to be there. There’s a smirk on his lips like he knows exactly what Zayn wants.

Zayn’s words get lost when a finger drags along his length teasingly before he’s tugging the material down. Whatever it was isn’t as important as Liam’s tongue dragging along the vein on the underside of his cock, _nothing’s_ as important as that right now.

He’s thankful Liam has a single room, but his bottom lip is going to break off from trying to keep the sounds rumbling in his throat from escaping. The walls are thin – he definitely heard Harry talking when Liam had blanketed his body over his.

“Not important,” he groans, sliding his thumb across the lips stretched around the thick of his cock. He wishes Liam could see how obscene he is, breathing heavily through his nostrils as he takes as much as he can, eyes dark every time they flick up to make sure Zayn is enjoying it as much as he clearly is –

He keeps fucking moaning around him, sending vibrations through him that’s going to make this end a lot faster than Zayn would like.

“No,” Zayn moans desperately as Liam’s fingers slide down his own joggers. Liam pulls off with a wet sound, the hand working over him slowing.

“Want me to stop?” he asks, voice hoarse and raw sounding and fuck, Zayn might just come from that alone.

“No,” Zayn gasps, thrusting up into Liam’s fist, urging him to keep going. He reaches out, dragging a thumb over the spit slicking Liam’s chin. “I mean don’t touch yourself. Wanna suck you next, Li.”

They get to homework eventually, but the taste of Liam on his tongue is distracting as he tries to continue reading where they left off, and they end up with books on the floor, Zayn licking into Liam’s mouth with an urgency that always seems to be sparkling between them.

And it doesn’t dissipate, though he’s waiting for it to. Somehow Liam sneaks his way into Zayn’s everyday life, between classes, before work and after practice. They tried the library for homework a few times, but Liam was just as distracting by just being there, a hand always cupped on his thigh and the way he never takes his eyes off of his lips when Zayn’s reading –

So he’s there alone this time, hunched over a book with words blurring together because he’s exhausted. He had gotten off work late the night before and passed out as soon as he landed in the spot of Liam’s bed that had somehow become to feel like his.

And Liam had woken him up with a hot coffee, early enough for him to still shower before going to class. He hadn’t even been disappointed when Zayn told him he had to miss his game that night, because he really needed to catch up on all this work.

It’s only the first semester, he’s only in Intro classes and just the idea of what’s going to come later on is starting to freak him out. He knows he shouldn’t focus on that, focus on the now like his mum always says, but he just can’t stop the thoughts once they’ve entered his conscious.

He really needs to go home.

“You look like you need a break.”

The chair beside him is pulled back, and his vision is filled with a paper bag with the local donut shop logo printed on it and he smells coffee and that blueberry bubblegum Liam picked up chewing.

“I haven’t done anything,” Zayn complains, welcoming the warm cup into his hands. “And I’ve been here two hours.” Okay, he’s done plenty but it’s not close to all of it so it feels like nothing’s been accomplished.

Liam gives him an understanding look, rubbing a thumb over his cheek. That’s the extent of their public affection and Zayn doesn’t mind, but right now he wants to curl against his chest even though he knows if he does that he’ll never finish.

“Ten minutes won’t hurt you, babe,” Liam promises, wiggling a glazed donut in his face. He closes his eyes after he takes a bite, exaggerating a groan that’s really not helping Zayn focus.

“Don’t you have a game?” Zayn asks, snatching the donut with a pout. They’re not supposed to eat in the library but he’s managed a spot way in the back, hidden behind all the book cases. It’s his favorite spot because it’s the quietest, and there aren’t any large windows that he can get trapped staring out of.

“On my way there. Wanted to see you, for good luck.” Liam smirks. “And to tell you the lads are going out to that bar - you know the one with the red writing? Kind of looks like a barn? If you’re down?”

“I should really get this done,” Zayn answers. “But come over after, if you want.”

Liam nods, reaching out again to cup his face. “Everything’s okay, yeah?”

There’s concern there, in the wide of his eyes, the slight pout of his lips and in the tip of his fingertips where they smooth across his jaw. It makes Zayn want to nod, assure him everything is fine but the words roll off his tongue before he can stop them.

Liam listens patiently, fingers tracing circles against Zayn’s skin as he goes on, venting about how overwhelmed about school he is – and how badly he misses his mum. He whispers that part, embarrassed and ashamed because he’s a grown adult who shouldn’t need his mum so much, but Liam only nods like he understands.

“Go see them this weekend,” he suggests, pulling Zayn closer to run his fingers through the messy hair Zayn hadn’t bothered to do anything with today.

It’s been almost two months since whatever this thing between them is started, and Zayn’s still not sure what he did to deserve someone like Liam to even waste one second on him. He always does these little things, grazing his fingers against Zayn’s skin with rounded eyes to ask him if he’s okay, or running fingers against his scalp even though he pretends he hates it most days. Almost like he can’t believe he has Zayn either, and Zayn doesn’t know what to do with that. 

“I can’t. No money,” Zayn explains. He’s hesitant about leaning into Liam’s chest, but Liam seems to get it, making the decision for him as he wraps an arm around his shoulders and tugs him closer.

“I can lend you it,” Liam offers, lips pressing into his hair. Soft touches that somehow Zayn’s seemed to fall in love with. They’re intoxicating, and he craves them when they’re apart. He swore he wouldn’t pick up any other addictive habits after smoking, but he hadn’t been expecting Liam when he had made that promise.

He shakes his head automatically. He hates borrowing money, from anyone, even Louis who always insists. It was the main reason he hadn’t told Louis how badly he wanted to go home. Why he let it get bottled up and spill out into Liam’s hands.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

Zayn pulls up, not thinking before he slides his hands to cup Liam’s face. Liam doesn’t pull away, just closes the space between them so their lips can brush gently together. “I’m sure, Li. Thank you.”

Liam frowns, resting their foreheads together. “Don’t stress too much, yeah? If I find you here like this again after the game, I’m dragging you out.”

Zayn snorts. He wouldn’t have to try that hard. “Duly noted. Good luck in your game.”

Liam brushes their lips together once more before he leaves, taking the trash with him. Zayn rests his head on his book until his thoughts drain out and he can focus.

(And when Liam does drag him out of the library, it’s welcomed – but not as much as the fingers massaging down his back, followed by soft lips after Liam insists he lay down and _rest_.)

 

Zayn’s clicks on Liam’s Instagram, eyes scanning over the pic of them he had posted a few days ago. He had wanted to make it his background, but they’re not dating so he’s not sure how weird that would be. They’re only close enough to fit in the frame together, and Liam’s laughing, eyes crinkling at the stupid face Zayn is making –

“You’re going home,” Louis announces in a sing song voice as he enters their dorm. There’s an envelope in his hands that he waves around. “Mum sent me a ticket home but I’ve got a date with Harry and it’s only good for this weekend.”

Zayn sits up quickly, reaching out for the envelope. There’s indeed a bus ticket in there for Friday, and a return for Sunday. He eyes Louis suspiciously. “There’s no address on this envelope.”

Louis stops, a flash of hesitation on his face, before he covers it up quickly. “I was going to send it back before I realized my best friend in the whole world should have it.”

“You’re lying,” Zayn realizes, handing the envelope back. He’s known Louis long enough to know all of his tells. When he’s lying, when he’s upset, when he’s just had sex. “You know I hate when you buy things for me, Lou.”

“It wasn’t me,” Louis promises, hands flying up. Easy – he never keeps up a lie for long. “But I can’t tell you who it was.”

Zayn glares at him. “Why not?” But he knows, and he’s grabbing his jacket as Louis struggles to come up with a response.

“Because the person told me not to and he has these big bulging muscles that could easily kill me.”

“That’s what I thought,” Zayn says dimly, shoving the ticket into his pocket.

“He asked me not to tell you,” Louis grabs his arm before he can leave the room. “He was pretty insistent on you going too, dude. Like – really, _really_ insistent to make this happen for you.”

Zayn shrugs out of his grip, not bothering to ask for the details. Louis lets him go, giving him a sad look that he won’t think about.

He’s not mad. Well, he knows he _shouldn’t_ be. It was kind of Liam and it makes his chest ache but the guilt taking residence there is much stronger than anything else.

Liam had asked him twice since he had first brought it up if he could lend Zayn the money to go home. Zayn had insisted – both times – that he would not take Liam’s money. Very adamantly too. Or so he thought, at least.

He lights a cigarette as he crosses campus, trying to distract the tears welting in his eyes. Tuition payments had gone through earlier that week, and they had taken more out then Zayn had anticipated so his account has seen better days, like days where there’s actually money in it. There was no way he could pay Liam back, even if Liam probably wouldn’t care. Because that’s who Liam is, kind and thoughtful and it’s frustrating because Zayn doesn’t know if he wants to fight or kiss him more.

Practice is still going on, and Liam runs around the field, shouting things at the other guys here and there. Zayn stands against the fence at the edge, the ticket burning his skin through his joggers.

Liam spots him at some point, waving with a frown because Zayn never comes to his practices. He’s been trying to work on that creepy staring thing, which he’s not fully accomplished yet. And it’s so hard not to stare at Liam, whose hair is curling again and Zayn can see the way the fabric of his shirt darkens where it sticks to his back with sweat, even though the air is cooler outside.

He has to remind himself why he’s there, to yell at Liam, insist he take the tickets back, not to ogle at him and admire the way he looks out there.

Zayn’s through a second cigarette when Liam jogs over towards him. He rests his hands on his hips, chest falling up and down with heavy breaths. “Hey.”

“I came here to yell at you,” Zayn admits, eyes falling to his feet. The guilt is stronger looking at those wide, always concerned looking eyes close up. “Because I told you I don’t want you to loan me money, but I know you were just being your fucking kind self.” He digs the envelope out, handing it to Liam. “But I can’t take them.”

Liam hesitates and for a second Zayn thinks he’s going to deny it. He doesn’t, instead he shakes his head. “Wasn’t a loan,” he explains, pressing Zayn’s hand and the envelope against Zayn’s chest.

“Then I really don’t want it,” Zayn insists, stubbornly. He knows he’s being ungrateful and that makes the guilt worse, but if something happens and Liam needs however much it was he spent, Zayn’s going to feel horrible. Or if he can’t pay him back soon enough and - “Liam, just take it back.”

“It’s non-refundable,” Liam argues flippantly. Zayn’s lips part to speak, but he’s cut off with “and your mum is already expecting you.”

Zayn gapes at him, mouth slapping shut. Liam had no right and he’s going to kill Louis because it was no doubt him who helped with that. “She didn’t mention that when I talked to her this morning.”

The grimace on Liam’s face could only be described as _guilty_ and Zayn glares until he explains. “Louis might have told her they were a gift from me and apparently everyone thinks it’s shit you refuse help, dude. Not just me.”

“I’m moving out. Getting a new roommate,” Zayn sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat. Louis plays dirty.

Liam smiles softly, closing the space between them to trap Zayn against the fence. He wants to protest it, but he _can’t._ “Can you please just accept them? For me, please? I hate seeing how stressed you’ve been, and I know how badly you miss home.”

Zayn swallows thickly, stomping his cigarette out to place his hands on Liam’s hips. The material of his shirt is damp and sticking to his skin and Zayn kind of wants to rip it off. He’s not sure if it’s okay to touch like this, to be this close – they’re in public, but Liam’s hands are sliding up his arms, cupping his neck carefully to tilt his head so he’s looking at him and he can’t breathe. Zayn, always, malleable in those calloused palms. “You don’t play fair, Payne,” he whispers. _Changing up and breaking all my rules ever since we met_

Liam grins, eyes crunching at the corners. Fight yes – Zayn’s definitely fighting him, fight and then kiss though. “Does that mean you’ll go?”

Zayn gives him a jerky nod, feeling unable to deny Liam a thing when his lips are hovering that close to his. _It feels like I’m catching something, that’s because it’s true._

“Want to get rid of me that bad?” He jokes quietly, tongue flicking out to stroke over his bottom lip and they’re close enough that it grazes Liam’s. 

Liam rolls his eyes, favoring pressing their lips together instead of responding. It’s slow, lips dragging over each other with Liam’s thumbs pressing into his cheeks until they’re both breathing heavily, and Zayn forgets why he came here in the first place. _I can’t deny it, and I won’t try it but I think that you know_

Liam makes him feel something stronger than he’s ever felt for someone, and he doesn’t want to think about it. It’d make things complicated, he’s overdosing, hitting rock bottom and the pressure in his chest at the realization should make him want to run away, but he’s linking Liam’s fingers with his own instead, dragging him back to his room to thank him properly for the gift.

_I look around and everything I see is beautiful ‘cause all I see is you-_

 

Home hasn’t changed any, and he’s not sure why he thought it would in a relatively short amount of time (even if it’s felt like forever). He’s hit with the smell of something spicy as he enters without knocking (which he has a key, but it felt almost wrong to just walk in), and the heavy padding of feet as his little sister comes running out of the kitchen, arms spread wide before she’s leaping towards him.

Zayn holds her tightly, smelling the strong scent of Waliyah’s perfume lingering on her clothes. He’ll inquire about that later. He’s not ready for her to grow up yet. “Zayn!” she squeals, shaking him back and forth.

“Hey Safaa,” he says, putting her down and kissing the top of her head. “How’s my favorite girl?”

He tries not to squeeze too tightly to his mum when she wraps her arms around him, because he doesn’t want her to worry – it’s just hitting him how much he really did miss her when he smells the flowery fragrance of her perfume that used to always tickle his nose. It seems like she understands when she looks at him with warm eyes, patting his cheek. “Hope you’re hungry, dear. Been cooking all day. All your favorites.”

“And I’m getting tired of waiting. Make these greetings quick.” There’s a playful smile on his father’s face when he comes in, patting a hand on Zayn’s shoulder.

“Missed you too, Baba,” Zayn says, hugging him. He pulls away when he feels the tears prickling against his eyes because he’s not going to cry, he won’t let himself.

After dinner, he curls on the couch with Waliyha and Doniya on either side of him, Safaa sitting on the floor between his legs as they watch whatever is on the telly. Zayn’s not paying attention, too busy focused on the warmth of his sisters around them, the way he’s missed the infectious sound of Safaa’s giggles and even the annoyed huff and puffs Waliyha lets out when he teases her.

_thank you, li._

He adds a green heart and a kissy emoticon, hoping Liam knows just how loaded his words are.

“Boyfriend?” Doniya snickers, looking over his shoulder at the phone in his lap. Zayn flushes, quickly locking his phone so she can’t snatch it away and read their conversation. He feels like he’s young again, when Doniya used to make fun of him for “being smitten over” Jack, who was never polite to his sisters like he knows Liam would be.

“What’s his name?” Safaa gasps, turning around to face him. She wiggles her eyebrows, something she’s no doubt learned from the older girls.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Zayn tells her as Doniya says, “Liam.”

“Liaaaam,” Safaa teases, snickering. His sisters laugh as his face flushes and maybe he didn’t miss them as much as he thought he had.

“These two are a bad influence on you,” Zayn murmurs affectionately, scratching the top of his little sister’s head.

Safaa falls asleep sometime after, and he wiggles out between the others to pick her up, grimacing because it seems like she’s grown so much in no time. He struggles out a good night to Waliyha and Doniya before carrying Safaa to her room.

His room is the same, of course – his mum knows he couldn’t handle if it were different. Some things are out of place, from when Safaa sneaks in and thinks he doesn’t know. (He doesn’t mention it, even though she FaceTimed him a few weeks ago and she was definitely in his room).

 He flops down on the small bed, even smaller than the one in the dorm, covered in the plain green sheets he had insisted on when he started to become a bit embarrassed by the Batman ones.

_wut is this?_

Zayn’s eyes scan over the message and the frowny face in confusion until a picture comes through. It’s just Liam’s bed and he can just make out the side of Liam’s bare torso. He snorts, fingers tapping out his response.

_looks like an empty bed to me_

Liam sends him another frown face and he bites down on a smile. Addicted, he feels, unable to stop texting Liam even though all he’s wanted over the past month was to be with his sisters. Head over heels, maybe – no _definitely,_ but he’ll think about it later.

He asks Liam what he’s doing instead of responding to the face, instead of telling him that he feels the same. Plenty of his life has been spent sleeping alone and it was fine, but now he hates it.

_tryin not 2 think bout u_

Zayn frowns, hesitating when he sees Liam is typing again. He wonders why Liam isn’t going out, why he’s sat in his room when they won their game today and the boys are no doubt out celebrating, like they always do.

It gets a bit annoying sometimes, when Zayn feels bad about saying no. Liam always opts to stay with him, even if he plans on not doing anything remotely exciting. A movie, maybe, that always becomes nothing more than background noise, because Zayn’s incapable of keeping his hands from Liam.

_cn i show u?_

The reply is immediate when Zayn says yes, and that- that’s not what Zayn was expecting at all. Liam’s holding the camera above his body, capturing the flush of his chest and the planes of his abdomen -

And the thick of his cock, pressing obscenely into the silky material of his red gym shorts. Zayn struggles to keep his moan in, arousal curling in his lower stomach. Liam’s hard, and he’s gripping at the base as if to emphasize.

He adjusts his own hardening prick, trying to come up with something to say but he’s drawing a blank. Liam likes teasing, likes drawing it out and Zayn wonders if he’s doing that now and no - he can’t think like that or he’s going to be suffering from the same problem.

_that ok?_

Zayn doesn’t hesitate to write back, because fuck yeah, it’s more than okay. Liam’s trying to kill him, but it really is okay. He’ll let Liam do it with a smile on his face and a thank you to follow.

He lays back, closing his eyes as Liam takes a bit to text back. His hips grind down against the mattress as he thinks of what’s preoccupying Liam, the way Liam’s probably sucking on that bottom lip, trying to keep in those quiet gasps of breath he always lets out when Zayn’s has him sliding against his tongue.

_was thnkn bout how good u would look ridin me_

“Fuck,” Zayn gasps, fingers sliding down his torso hesitantly. He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with getting yourself off, but it’s his first night home and he’s pretty sure his sisters are still awake downstairs. Not to mention, his parents are on the other side of the wall across from him.

It’s not the first time Zayn’s thought about riding Liam, hands pressed to his chest for balance as he fucks himself down on Liam’s cock, taking it slow as to feel every drag inside of him. Until Liam’s gripping his hips, impatient, and taking over and fucking up into him -

His fingers are shaky as they grab for his phone when a new message appears.

_in my jersey lol_

He’s wearing it now, and tells Liam so. He had insisted on him wearing it when he left. “Since you can’t be at the game, you can still support me.” And Zayn’s glad, because it smells like his soap and that strong cologne he sometimes wears after practice when he doesn’t feel like showering right away.

“I’m going to die,” Zayn murmurs just to break the dense silence of the room. It’s uncomfortable, but he shifts the joggers past his hips, thumbing across the small wet spot on the material of his briefs. He whimpers, easing a finger down his length.

He tries to tease himself the way Liam does, hoping to make up for the fact that Liam’s not here, but it’s difficult. The lightly pressured touches aren’t enough and it’s almost painful the way he needs to get a grip around himself. He doesn’t know how Liam manages it.

Liam’s not responding and it’s driving him mad thinking about what he could be doing. His hips roll against the palm of his hand, still not letting himself get the friction he needs.

He types out another message as a distraction, even though Liam hasn’t responded yet. Maybe it will work better if he teases Liam, rather than himself.

But he’s shit at dirty talking and he feels dumb and embarrassed as he erases and starts over. Everything sounds fake, like he’s auditioning for porn and –

c _an u handle it babe? we can take it slow_

Zayn’s definitely sure he can’t handle that. He’d probably die and he’s ready to write his will now.   _i think, li. you’ll take care of me ya ?_

Liam only responds with a “babe” and the message goes quiet for a while and it’s frustrating.

_can I send u somthn it’s a bit naughty ;)_

Zayn bites on his lip. He’s not sure he can handle it, because he’s feeling a bit scandalous already, but he types out a yes anyway.

The three dots that float under his message drive him crazy, and it feels like years before the words _‘r u sure its a photo rly naughty’_ pop up.

Fuck yes, Zayn groans in his head. He sends Liam a much calmer, “ _sure babe_ ”, and he’s already shoving a hand down his joggers before the photo comes through.

Zayn moans loudly, biting harshly into his bottom lip to keep it quiet because Liam is fucking obscene and unreal and clearly a secret porn star. The photo is taken from his hips and Zayn can just make out the flushed tip of his cock, but his eyes focus on the coating of white liquid across the muscles of his abdomen. Most of Liam’s face is cut off, but he still managed to capture his swollen lips, parted around a moan.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes, hips snapping up into the grip he has around himself. He should text Liam back first, but he needs to release the growing tension, and the other hand is busy muffling the moans he’s unable to hold back.

_too much ?_

He tries with one hand to type back because Liam’s sent an embarrassed face emoticon. Balancing the phone on his chest, made difficult with shaking fingers, he snaps a photo of the shiny tip of his cock poking out from his fist, to assure Liam that no – definitely not too much.

 _Fuck_ , is all he’s managed to type before he has time to debate sending it, scrambling to place his hand back over his lips to trap the strangled sound as he comes. He’s trembling, gasps breaking past his lips as he pulls out his orgasm, flicking his wrist and rubbing the pad of his thumb across the tip the way Liam always does.

He feels dirty and it’s a bit exhilarating and not even that big of a deal, really but he’s never done that, and there’s a flush warming down his chest when he eyes the photo he sent.

_u going home was a rly bad idea im sry_

Zayn snickers breathlessly, wiping his hands off before he grabs the phone again. He hits call instead of texting back.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he whispers sharply when Liam answers. “Because if that’s the case, what did I ever do to you?”

Liam laughs, low and rough. “I could say the same to you, Malik.”

Zayn’s missed his voice, and it’s bad because he’s seen him this afternoon, when he brought him to the bus station. Intoxicated, he feels, like Liam’s a shot of something strong burning through him.  “I’ve never done that before. But you, you are clearly a porn star.”

“So I’m the first?” Liam sounds pleased.

“Yeah, babe. Special and what not.”

“Gonna be the last too, yeah? Miss you.”

Zayn bites down on his smile, letting Liam’s words sink in. “Miss you too,” he murmurs like it’s a secret.

“And I’m not a porn star. You just drive me crazy.”

Zayn could say the same about Liam. _Every time I’m close to you, the words wanna come out but I forget -_

 

“Who’s the boy?” His baba asks as they sit in the kitchen. His mum works on lunch at the counter, insisting that they sit and catch up instead of help. The girls are out with their friends and Zayn should probably say hello to the few friends he has here, but he’s found himself unable to leave the house. Alex and Louis were the only ones he’d want to see and Alex is off to school.

“What?” Zayn gapes. He pulls himself together from the surprise, hopefully managing a look of confusion instead – but he’s never managed to perfect that one into looking believable – at least, not under the knowing gaze of his father.

Yaser smiles gently. “Safaa let it slip this morning. Don’t think I’ve missed that smile on your face when you’re on that thing.” He points an accusing finger at the phone pressed in between the palm of Zayn’s hands. “Haven’t seen it in a while, beta. I’m just curious.”

His mum throws an amused smile over her shoulder. “We’re not together,” Zayn explains, watching the way his fingers play with the case on his phone instead of looking at his parents. Because that part seems more important than his name, or how they met for some reason -

“He’s the one that bought your bus ticket here, isn’t he, sunshine?” Tricia asks. “Louis told me it was an admirer of yours.”

“Does he just call and gossip about me?” Zayn asks, not harsh though he wants to be. It’s his mum after all, and his father’s eyes narrow just enough to make him feel guilty. “Maybe you guys could stop doing that.”

“Did he?” Yaser asks, eyebrows pressing upwards as he looks between Zayn and his mum. “I like the sound of him already. When are we meeting him, then?”

Zayn’s eyes go wide as his head snaps up. “Baba,” he whines. They’re not dating, so probably never he wants to say but he hates the way that makes him feel, so he keeps his mouth closed. Casual doesn’t involve parents. He may not have much experience with this, but he knows that much.

And he can’t contain the way his heart beats faster in his chest thinking of Liam shaking hands with his father, wrapped in the arms of his mum when they meet. Those brown eyes will round with apprehension when Yaser pretends to be scary and Zayn will be the one comforting Liam this time -

Yaser points at him as he speaks, bringing Zayn away from his thoughts. “We are meeting him, beta. Sounds like a good lad, but I’m not convinced until I see myself.”

Tricia rolls her eyes, but the smile she presses against his father’s head is an amused one. “Enough of that, love. Leave the boy alone, he clearly doesn’t want to talk about it.”

Yaser frowns. “I will when I get a name.”

“Liam,” Zayn replies begrudgingly. That’s one question he can give his parents an answer to. “Liam Payne.”

Yaser nods, dropping it like he promised. Zayn’s thankful, but he’s too conscious of the way his face lights up every time he looks at his phone now.

“C’mon, honey.” Tricia beckons Zayn over softly. “Let’s get these tomatoes chopped and I’ll tell you about the time this one here refused to meet my parents.”

 

It shouldn’t bother him, he knows. They’re not _dating_ , Liam’s free to do as he pleases, and he’s free to change his mind and go out even though he’s told Zayn he’s staying in again tonight…

But he can’t help the way his chest squeezes tightly when his eyes scan over the photo. She’s gorgeous, really fucking beautiful with her thick mane of golden curls, and her shapely tanned legs. She’s pressed to Liam’s side, a hand on his shoulder as if to keep him close.

And her bright red lips are pressed to his pushed up cheeks, his smile that dopey one he gets when he’s been drinking. The one Zayn usually loves, but right now he kind of hates it.

Zayn closes out of the app without reading the caption, or her IG handle. He doesn’t want to know who she is or where Liam is. He just wants to curl into bed and not think about it.

He’s just falling asleep, floating in and out of consciousness when his phone rings. He scrambles to find it, the sound loud and blaring in his ears.

“Hullo,” he murmurs into the phone balancing on his ear.

“Babe,” Liam whines on the other line. He’s definitely drunk, his accent thicker and words slurred. “Whaddya doing?”

“Sleeping,” Zayn grunts. He can hear the steady thump of music in the background and – that female giggle is probably the girl in the photo and Zayn’s probably being immature but he doesn’t want to talk.

“Wanna be sleepin’ with you,” Liam slurs. Someone shouts his name, and Zayn can’t make out what Liam responds with because he’s distant sounding, probably having pulled the phone away.

He hangs up, turning the phone on silent but it doesn’t stop the urge to check his phone to see if Liam called back. He doesn’t - and it takes Zayn too long to fall back asleep.

 

“Call me when you get back,” his mum had made him promise when he left. He will eventually, but he has a surge of confidence in him right now and he wants to see Liam, to wake him up with a mouth on his neck so he can forget about last night and go back to normal – casual.

(And maybe he really just wants Liam to kiss him back and assure him that he’s the only one he does that to.)

Liam’s door is unlocked and Zayn wants to scold him, because he always does that – less fearful of people breaking in than Zayn is. He’s always the one to lock the door when he sleeps over.

It’s dark inside, the only light coming from the living room windows and he maneuvers himself easily through the hallway, having memorized the layout of Liam’s room. It’s silent, everyone probably asleep. His train had been early since he still has work to do and knew he wouldn’t be able to get it done at home.

“Liam,” he whispers as he pushes the door to his bedroom slowly. Even drunk, Liam’s easy to wake. But he’s not there.

Instead, there’s a layer of golden curls covering his-no, _Zayn’s_ pillow and he sees the bare tan skin disappearing underneath the start of the comforter. Zayn closes the door quietly not to wake her, missing the suitcases and unfamiliar female clothes that are strewn across Liam’s floor.

There’s a pressure building in his throat and he hurries through Liam’s dorm, desperate to get outside and catch his breath. His chest feels like it’s caving in and he’s so stupid, so fucking stupid. He shouldn’t have come over – he should have known.

“Zayn?”

The voice startles him as he’s closing the entrance to Liam’s dorm and he stills, trying to catch his breath. He has no right to be upset, and being upset could ruin whatever it is they have between them. Liam’s not his _boyfriend_ , it’s casual –

“When’d you get back?”

Liam strolls over towards him. He’s only wearing sweatpants, hanging loose on his hips, and when he gets near, Zayn can smell the strong scent of perfume and cigarette smoke on his skin. There’s a soft smile on his face and Zayn wants to shove him, but he lets Liam get close, flushing his body against Zayn’s.

“Just now,” Zayn whispers, afraid that his voice is going to betray him, if his face isn’t already. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

“Wonderful surprise,” Liam mutters, pinching his chin between two fingers to kiss him. It’s hard to kiss back when he is fighting the urge to run away. _Get yourself together_ –

Liam pulls back, his brows scrunching together as he scans Zayn’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Zayn lies. His words are choked and maybe he should enroll in arts or something to practice his acting skills.

“You’re not good at lying, Zayn.”

Zayn pulls away, trying his best to put a convincing, tired smile on his lips. “Nothing’s wrong, babe. I’m just um, tired. Y’know, long ride home.”

Liam doesn’t look as if he believes him _at all_ , but he doesn’t reach to pull him back either. “Wanna take a kip with me? Harry’s at yours, and I’m -“

Zayn frowns at him. Yeah, they can just have a fucking threesome while they’re at it. “Um, no. Just wanted to check on you. You were pretty drunk last night?”

Liam drags his fingers through his hair with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting to go out but -”

He shrugs. He needs to get out of here. “S’fine. Bye, Liam.”

It’s not the smoothest way to leave, and it’s not helping the fact that something’s clearly wrong, but it’s getting harder to breathe and he needs to fucking get out. It takes everything in him not to run when he turns away from Liam’s wide eyes.

He wipes roughly at the tears lining his eyes in frustration because he hates them.

Harry and Louis are sleeping soundly when he tip toes into his room, careful not to make too much noise as he curls into his bed. He didn’t sleep much the night before, and he’s exhausted but sleep doesn’t come. He puts in his earphones, only to rip them out when Justin Timberlake’s voice floats through the buds.

 

Liam doesn’t stop asking him if he’s okay through the day. He is, Zayn assures, every time, but he’s getting frustrated with Liam until eventually he stops responding.

He just needs a breath, to have a day to get over it, accept it and then things can go back to normal. Liam didn’t do anything wrong and Zayn’s just being clingy, he reminds himself. And Liam’s making it really fucking difficult for him to want to stop.

Louis curls beside him in bed after he drags himself back to his room that night, not asking what’s wrong and Zayn’s thankful. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

And he doesn’t mean too be standoffish, he really doesn’t – but when Liam gives him that warm smile in class the next day, he knows his isn’t quite as warm.

“How was home?”

“Fine,” Zayn responds. He clears his throat. _Do better than that, Malik_. “Really good to see everyone.”

Liam gnaws at his bottom lip. “That’s good. Um, do you want to come over before practice? Could watch a film? Missed you.”

“I have work,” Zayn answers shortly. Liam only nods and looks like a wounded puppy and Zayn finds it difficult to ignore the guilt biting at his insides.

“Maybe tomorrow?” he suggests, hoping to remedy that frown. Time apart would do him good, get rid of this feeling of _need_ he is beating himself up over, but it’s hard to when Liam looks like that, when he’s craving a fix and Liam’s right there.

Liam’s face lights up instantly, and it’s worth the nagging thoughts in Zayn’s head. “Yeah, okay.”

 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?”

So much for Louis not asking, he thinks. Zayn keeps his eyes on where his fingers move up the buttons of his work shirt. “Just missing home.”

Louis sighs. He’s not going to let it go, apparently. “And that’s why you’re ignoring Liam?”

“M’not,” he lies easily, straightening out his collar.

“You guys are pretty much inseparable, and I haven’t seen him or heard you mention him once –which, to be honest I thought I would be delighted about but I’m not. And Liam’s had Harry ask me twice if you were okay and it’s clear you’re not.”

Zayn drags his fingers through the quiff he gave up on styling, so it’s quite messy but professional enough.

“Needed some space, I guess. I was getting a little attached.” It’s as close to the truth that he’s comfortable with divulging.

Louis stands, placing a firm hand on each shoulder. He has to stand up on his tip toes a bit to be eye leveled with him. “That’s okay, you know.”

“It’s not when you’re casual,” he reminds him.

And Louis laughs, actually laughs at him and Zayn can’t keep the offended glare off of his face. This, this is why he hadn’t wanted to tell Louis, even though he tells Louis everything. He already feels stupid enough. “Casual? You and Liam? You’re joking, yeah?”

Zayn shrugs away from him. “I have to go to work,” he grits out. It’s not fucking funny, really.

Louis chases after him, trapping Zayn in the room as he stands in the door way. Sometimes Zayn regrets having him as a best mate. “Really fucking gone for each other is what you are but casual? No. Not at all. And if you think any different from Liam you really need to open up your eyes cause babe, his heart eyes are almost as disgusting as yours.”

Zayn shoves past him. He doesn’t butt into Louis’ relationship with Harry, only asking questions if he can tell Louis wants to talk about it. Clearly, he does not want to talk about it at the moment and Louis won’t let it go.

Work is busy enough that it’s distracting, but Liam hasn’t been texting like the day before anyway. He’s been able to keep himself from going onto Instagram. He’s not sure if he’d be down to see another picture of her-

And because someone is against him and decided he’s not already having a shit day, he doesn’t have to go on Instagram to see her because halfway through his shift, she’s pushing through the front doors of the restaurant, a curious smile on her face as her eyes scan the place.

“No, no,” Zayn mutters to himself frantically. There’s a tight smile on his lips, heart pounding painfully in his ear drums, when she approaches the podium, because he’s at work and he has to be friendly.

And she doesn’t deserve anything less than friendliness, but he can’t help the jealousy that bites at him. She’s beautiful, absolutely stunning in person and it makes him want to shrink into himself.

“Four, please,” she asks, eyes scanning over his name tag. She’s not with anyone, and Zayn half expects Liam to walk through the doors behind her. He did ask Zayn to take a nap with her in his bed the other day, after all.

He scribbles it on the pad in front of him for one of the waiters. “It’ll be about five minutes,” he informs her. She says a quiet ‘thank you’ before heading towards the waiting by the door.

It’s not Liam who joins her a few beats later, but Harry, wearing a dressy button up and his hair is pulled back, defining the strong shape of his jaw.

“Zayn!” he greets. “I didn’t know you worked here?” He looks bothered by it almost and Zayn just stares at him. “Does Liam know?”

“Yeah?”

Harry frowns. “I wouldn’t think he would suggest this place knowing that with whatever is going on with you two.”

Zayn frowns too. “Nothing is going on with us,” he denies. Liam might have not known he was working, but the chances of that were slim. He doesn’t have a set schedule, but he’s sure he mentioned it last week -

The girl comes over before Harry can continue and he’s not sure which one he’d rather be dealing with at the moment. “So this is the Zayn?” she says to Harry, an amused grin on her lips. Zayn hopes his frown isn’t a scowl, but he’s not sure so by the way Harry crunches his brow at him.

“Heard a lot about you,” she goes on, not noticing. “Liam doesn’t ever shut up about you, actually. I’m Danielle.”

“Does he?” Zayn says sharply, ignoring the introduction. It’s unfair of him and her face falls in confusion as he hands the waitress, Jade, the four menus. But why the hell would Liam talk about him? “Enjoy your dinner.”

Zayn wants to run outside and call his mum. But he can’t. He’s already had his break (which he called his mum during) and more customers are walking through the door. He spots Liam filing in behind them and he takes a deep breath. He can do this, just _fine_.

“Hey,” Liam says softly, approaching the podium. He looks hesitant, still chewing on that bottom lip that Zayn’s pretty sure he spent the majority of class doodling in the margins of his notebook. _Withdrawal symptoms,_ he couldn’t help it.

Andy wiggles his fingers before he heads in the direction Harry and Danielle went and Liam’s eyes follow after him before they’re back on Zayn’s. He can already see the words building up there, like he knows what Liam’s going to say.

“They’re back there.” Zayn points in the same direction before Liam can say anything else. He looks good, wearing a white button up fitted to his torso, the sleeves rolled to his elbows and black dress pants. The glasses sit on the bridge of his nose, and it’s been a while since Zayn’s seen them since he doesn’t wear them while playing.

It’s a fancy restaurant, and it makes sense that he’d be dressed up, but the jealousy inside of him grows louder. Zayn wants to take him to the break room and muss up that perfectly styled hair and mark up the skin above his collar, printing _mine, mine_ there.

But Liam’s not his, he reminds himself, and it makes his stomach tighten painfully and maybe he’ll throw up on Liam and he’ll have to take off that obscenely attractive outfit. (Well, then he’d be shirtless and that’s worse so scratch that-)

Liam’s lips part like he’s going to say something, brows scrunching together when he closes them again. Zayn thinks he’s going to walk away, but his feet are rooted to the floor. It’s difficult for Zayn not to cup those round cheeks and rub his fingers over the warm, soft skin there. Wounded, he looks. Zayn knew those eyes would get the best of him one day.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Zayn says automatically. It’s the truth. Or at least, part of it. He didn’t do anything wrong. Just sucked Zayn in and made him feel things he shouldn’t. “I am just busy. At work, y’know.”

“Okay,” Liam says in defeat. His shoulders slump visibly and Zayn flinches, wanting to reach out for him. He walks away without another word, and Zayn tries not to watch him go because he can see the way Liam looks back at him from the corner of his vision.

He tries to not pay attention to them, and it helps that they’re seated at the furthest table from him. But he can still hear Andy’s loud voice saying “Payno” now and again and Zayn feels like throwing the podium at him.

_not casual_

_practically married_

_it’s kind of gross_

_but I support it_

Zayn reads Louis’ messages during his last break. He sends the one Harry took in class, followed by _heart eyes mate._

When they leave, Zayn’s shift is almost over and it’s quieter now in the restaurant. Liam’s got the scent of alcohol on his breath, but his words aren’t slurred and his cheeks aren’t as flushed as they normally get when he’s been drinking. “See you tomorrow, still?”

His eyes are wide and hopeful and Zayn finds himself nodding before he can really consider if he’s going through with it or not.

He does end up going through with it, because he’s _missed_ Liam, and he’s never had much control over himself when it came to him. He knocks quietly on his door, having learned his lesson about barging in.

Liam’s face scrunches when he smiles, an arm reaching out to pull Zayn through the door. His lips brush against his forehead, but it’s nothing more than that. “Glad you came,” he whispers, barely audible against his hair.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Zayn says. His shoulders are straight and he keeps an easy smile on his face. He practiced it in the mirror for what felt like hours until he thought he got it down. Cool, unaffected – _not head over heels and hurting because of it._

Liam shrugs but his eyes are searching Zayn’s face and the emotions in them are hard to read. They linger like that in the doorway for a few breaths before Zayn’s stepping aside to head for the couch in Liam’s common room. The bedroom would make it harder for him to keep his lips to himself like he’s promised himself he would.

And he’s already thinking about the way she looked pressed under his sheets, soft and warm like Liam – they fit so _well_ together _._

Liam grabs them something to drink. Zayn’s fingers tap nervously against his knees and he hates this, how awkward he feels. Liam’s got an easy smile on his face when he sits, but he’s on the opposite end of the couch, too far away and Zayn’s already regretting his life decisions.

He moves closer, letting their thighs brush and Liam seems to relax, searching for the remote to flick on the TV. Zayn tries to pay attention, but he’s too aware of Liam’s soft breathing, the rise and fall of his chest and the _silence._

“Um,” Zayn starts, the word sticking in his throat. Liam reacts immediately, eyes pulling away from the television with this attentive look on his face, eager like he’s been waiting for the silence to be broken too. And he probably has, Zayn’s been unfair to him. Liam, who had just bought him tickets to see his parents and never treated him wrongly. “I just wanted to say thank you again for sending me to see my parents.”

Liam nods, a soft smile warming his lips. “It was good, yeah? Being home?”

“Really good. Thank you, Li.”

Liam reaches out, brushing a thumb across his cheek and he’s missed the small gesture. Zayn wonders if he’ll kiss him, watches the way his tongue drags across his bottom lip like he might –

“They’re wicked good. Almost as good as us, but we have Liam so it’s a sure win.”

Zayn stills, Liam’s hand dropping into his lap, face falling, as the door opens and Harry’s voice fills the room. He falters when he sees Zayn and Liam, but he waves, a smile breaking across his face. It’s much friendlier than the other night at the restaurant.

Danielle follows behind, closing the door. Zayn’s shoulders slump, eyes searching for where his fingers dig into his jeans and he thought he could ignore it, but he can’t. She is still around, a reminder of the lack of a relationship between Liam and him and he thought he was going to be okay about it, but he’s not. It’s painfully obvious in the way his chest feels like it’s breaking open.

He just wants Liam to be his, and him to be Liam’s and he never thought labels would be this important to him but he just wants to know Liam feels anything similar to how he feels about Liam. But if he did, he would have said it or made it known or _something_.

“He might be your biggest fan,” Danielle says to Liam, pointing a thumb to Harry as she rolls her eyes. “Hasn’t stopped talking about that stupid game all day and how you’re single handedly going to win it.”

“You sound like Nialler,” Liam jokes, a giggle escaping his lips.

“Smart lad that one is,” Harry responds with a shrug. “And I’m pretty sure that’s Zayn with the number one fan spot.”

Liam’s cheeks flush when he looks up at Zayn through his eyelashes. Zayn bites on the inside of his cheek, hoping not to give away anything he’s feeling.

“Awe,” Danielle coos, pushing Harry out of the common area. “Let’s leave these two be.”

Zayn watches them go in confusion. He can see enough into the hallway of their rooms that she’s pushing into Liam’s room, Harry continuing on to his own. If Liam felt the same wouldn’t he want to at least hide whatever him and Danielle are doing a bit more? He feels like it’s being shoved down his throat and he’s choking.

“Danielle,” Liam explains. “I grew up with her. She’s surprised us on Saturday with a visit. That’s why I ended up going out.”

Zayn nods. “And she’s staying in your room?”

He hadn’t meant to voice it out loud, but here it is. His tone is only curious, at least.

“I’m not going to make her sleep on this couch.” There’s a teasing smile on his lips when he thumbs at Zayn’s jaw. “I’m a gent, remember?”

“I remember,” Zayn says quietly. It’s how you’ve trapped me, he thinks.

The light that was shining in Liam’s eyes dies out when Zayn stands, fingering the pack of cigarettes in his pocket because he needs to relax the tension rippling through him, and the air in the room is suffocating. For once, the heat from Liam feels more like it’s scalding hot than welcomed warmth.  

“You’re leaving?” Liam asks quickly. There’s something like shock on his face and Zayn tries not to notice. “Practice isn’t for another hour and you just got here.”

“Got homework ‘nd stuff. Just remembered,” Zayn says with a shrug. “See you.”

Liam’s at his heels as he walks out and Zayn feels like running, reaching for the door in a rush because he can feel the heat from Liam’s body behind him.

“Zayn,” he says softly, reaching out to grab his elbow. “Hold on.”

“I’m trying not to,” Zayn says in a rush, grimacing at himself. Liam’s mouth falls slack, and he doesn’t wait for Liam to come to any conclusion about the meaning of his words before he’s walking hunched down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter than the last but I hope it's okay yeah? Let me know what you think! I was planning on three chapters, but I might post a third and then the epilogue. If I do, I'll plan to post them at the same time. Thank you so much for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is the last chapter and I hope you've enjoyed it! THank you so much for taking your time out to read it and for sending me such lovely messages about it! (I'm kind of sad to be done lol).

“Zayner!”

Despite the friendly nick name, Niall’s coming over to him with a scowl on his face – and Zayn thought it was impossible for him to ever look anything less than pure, radiating happiness. (He had asked Harry one time if Niall ever stopped laughing and smiling, and Harry had responded with a very serious, “no, never.”)

He flinches, looking around because they’re in the library and they’re supposed to be quiet. He’s in his usual section in the back and once again, this is probably Louis’ fault that he’s been found, even if Liam’s the only one who knows where his hiding place is.

Niall slides into the seat across from him, moving over a textbook to make room for his elbows that he rests there to point an accusing finger at Zayn. His scowl is softened, back to almost normal Niall but Zayn’s still looking at him warily. “I came here to yell at ya but ya look just as pathetic as Liam.”

“What?” Zayn’s lips form a tight line. He really doesn’t have the patience to talk about Liam at the moment. Louis had tried harassing him all night about it before finally letting it go but he had been nervous about it being brought up again so he’s hidden himself in the library. Not quite the best hiding spot since apparently, everyone knows where it is.

“Liam’s been shit at practice, mate. Absolute shit, and he’s been walkin’ around with one of them wounded puppy looks on his face.” Niall tries to mimic the look, but he does an awful job, pulling off more of a constipated look than anything. He points a finger at Zayn’s face. “Kind of like that ‘cept you look kind of look like a grumpy puppy.”

“I am grumpy. Tryin’ to study.” Zayn waves at the massive amount of books, notebooks and papers scattered across the table.

(And in truth, this week he really doesn’t have that much work to do compared to others– he had just made it look like that so everyone would leave him be.)

Niall doesn’t budge, ignores this completely actually. “Liam’s a good lad, good to talk to. If he did somethin’ or whatever, tell ‘im about it. He’s got it bad for you, mate. Nothin’ messes up his game. He’ll do whatever it takes to fix it. He’s like that.”

“I don’t really think it’s any of your business, Niall,” Zayn says quietly, looking down at the book in front of him instead of the boy in front of him. Niall’s making him feel guilty because he thinks he knows that, that Liam will do anything to make it better.

“S’not, really. But I need you to do me a favor anyway,” Niall goes on, unaffected. Zayn’s glad, because he likes Niall, he really does, and he doesn’t deserve Zayn being rude to him either, he’s just irritated and exhausted. Sleep that week hadn’t been good to him. “And I’ll leave ya be.”,

“No promises,” Zayn warns, but it lacks any conviction.

“Come to the game on Friday. Just be somewhere he can see you, yeah? Don’t have to talk to him or nothin’.”

Zayn gnaws at his bottom lip, considering. He hadn’t really given it much thought, trying to push everything close to being about Liam to the back of his head.

(Which included the comics that his mum had sent him, half of the songs on his iPod and really, how did Liam manage to place himself into every aspect of Zayn’s life?)

“I’ll think about it, yeah?”

“Alright, but if you’re not there yer gonna have me to deal with. I like ya Zayner, but I hate seeing Liam miserable.”

“And possibly ruining the game against your rivals?” Zayn asks, not covering the tone of annoyance in his voice.

Niall grimaces. “Yeah, m’worried about that but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about Liam.”

“I know,” Zayn assures him. “Just putting a lot of weight on my shoulders, mate.”

“Ye told me it’s none of my business so I’m not going to ask, but Liam’s real strong, could probably help you with that.”

Other times, Zayn would probably snort at that but it makes his chest tight and he only shrugs in response.

Niall shakes his head, reaching over the table to rustle his fingers through Zayn’s hair, laughing at the scowl he gets in return as he leaves.

Zayn tries to go back to his homework but now he’s distracted and he ends up leaving as well.

 

Zayn holds the silky cloth in his hands, considering. Game day usually consists of everyone wearing something representing the school – usually something with the sports team’s name on it, but the only thing he has is Liam’s jersey. The scent of him still lingers in the fabric, but it’s mixed with Zayn now and he shouldn’t like it so much. He shouldn’t _miss it_ so much.

“Wear it,” Louis tells him, propping his chin on Zayn’s shoulder. “Like out of the dorm for once.”

“That might be a bit confusing,” Zayn mutters. After the way they parted the last time and haven’t talked in the two days since, Zayn’s not sure he should walk into class wearing it.

“I think it already is,” Louis whispers, pressing a sloppy kiss to Zayn’s cheek. Zayn doesn’t flinch away and he does end up tugging the jersey on. He pulls a hoodie over it just in case, and hopes Liam doesn’t notice that it’s one he knicked from him a few weeks ago.

If Liam does notice, he doesn’t make it noticeable when he takes the seat next to Zayn with a quiet hello, barely glancing his way. His body is stiff, eyes planted to the front, a distant look in them when Harry turns to talk to him and Zayn hates it. Everyone else is buzzing with energy, clapping Liam on the back, wishing him good luck, chatting shit on the other team. But Liam only nods, never really smiling.

And he could care less about the tightness in his own chest if it’ll bring back Liam’s warmth, the light that usually is lingering in his eyes. He tugs off the hoodie, shoving it into his backpack once class starts. It’s worth the nerves garbling in his stomach when he sees the quirk of Liam’s lips out of the corner of his vision, because he’s trying not to stare.

“Good luck tonight, Li,” he says, voice whispered as he grabs his backpack, standing awkwardly beside Liam’s desk.

“Thanks. Um, yeah, thanks Zayn.”

Zayn nods, a jerky shift of the head before he turns, nearly running out of the classroom.

 

It’s the biggest crowd yet. Both of the stands are filled, there’s people sitting in the grass and Zayn’s not the only one leaning against the fence. They’re far enough away though that Zayn lights up, eyes scanning the crowd to see Louis jumping along with Niall and Harry in the home stands. Danielle’s there too, and he can just make out the colors of the team on her jersey and he tries not to think about whether the name on hers is the same as the one on his.  

There’s cheering - no _screaming_ that Zayn cringes at as the announcer starts speaking, introducing the teams. Even from the distance Zayn sees Liam, standing just behind the captains. _A million people around all I see is you_

Liam’s watching where his shoe digs into the dirt, hands on his hips and it looks as if he’s trying to control his breathing. Zayn wants to run on the field and press their foreheads together to see if that will help calm the nerves like it does for Zayn.

He moves up sometime without making the conscious decision to, shoulder leaning against the side of the bleachers. Liam is off his game, and even though Zayn doesn’t know much about the sport, he’s watched Liam that he can tell. He’s got a frown on his face and it’s not one of concentration, but frustration instead. He shakes his head, tugs at the long hair at the top of his head and scratches at the back of his neck too much. Andy runs up to him at some point to pat him on the back, whispering something in his ear that Liam nods to and Zayn feels guilty. That’s his fault.

“You made it.”

Zayn pulls his eyes away from Liam, taking in Louis who walks up to him. His cheeks are red, and a loose jersey hangs off his shoulders that he recognizes as one of Harry’s. “Yeah,” Zayn responds with, taking an inhale of his cigarette.

“I knew you would.”

“I did too,” Zayn admits, ignoring the teasing smile on Louis’ lips.

“You’re a daft fuck, you know that, right?”

“M’not.”

“You are, and I figured out what’s been bothering you.”

Louis’ eyes turn towards the stand and he points. It’s not clear who he is pointing to, but Zayn knew he would figure it out eventually.

“I’ll get over it,” Zayn says with a shrug, placing the cigarette between his lips so he doesn’t have to say more.

“That’s why you’re daft,” Louis shouts as the crowd erupts, their side of the field groaning. He shoves him hard in the shoulder, a playful smile on his face. “There’s nothing to get over. I made sure of it. Harry says they’re friends, nothing more.”

Zayn lets the smoke settle in his chest before blowing it out. “Even if they weren’t, that’d be fine, Louis. He can be with who he wants.”

Louis gives him a sad smile. “Then let him.”

He nods and Louis punches him fondly in the shoulder. _Let him_.

He wants to tell Liam how he feels, hoping to get it off his chest or see where Liam stands or _something_ to relieve this uncertainty that’s making him uncomfortable, that’s completely his fault, really.

His mum made it seem so easy when he had called her earlier, finally getting it off of his chest (even though it didn’t make him feel any better).

“Just tell him how you feel, sunshine. Go from there –“

It’s not that _easy._ Liam could end up hating him for it, for wanting more than they have, for wanting to be together. Officially. It had been so good between them, the best two months of his life he thinks sometimes, until he realized he had let himself have stupid feelings towards the frustratingly fit guy in his Intro to Lit class.

He had thought he couldn’t handle being just friends, but the awkward encounter after class made him realize he couldn’t handle _that_. He’s playing with chance, unsure of which one he’s going to get when he tells Liam.

Zayn walks up to the smaller fence, leaning on to watch Liam better. _Just be somewhere some where he can see ya._

His fingers clutch painfully onto the wires, stopping himself from storming onto the field and kissing away that defeated frown on Liam’s lips. He really does look like a wounded puppy.

It’s a bit later in the game when Liam finally looks his way. Zayn can’t breathe but he manages a smile, waving his fingers and the smile he gets in return makes him regret the whole past week, and any doubts he’s had about Liam’s feelings. It’s elated, Liam’s eyes crunching around the corners and mouth parting open like he’s surprised. He nods in Zayn’s direction before looking away with determination on his face and -

They win, spectacularly. The crowd is loud, deafening, and there’s people rushing onto the field as the team jumps, hands patting on Liam’s back. Zayn doesn’t get it, because it’s just a rival team and not a championship or anything, but he can’t help the smile that’s on his lips as he watches them.

He stays back, watching Harry grab Liam’s face, lips whispering something against his ear. Liam’s face falls, but then the sad look is gone, replaced by a smile that seems soft compared to the hoots of happiness around him. Harry’s shouts something, pointing in Zayn’s direction and those brown eyes find him, before he’s jogging over.

“Hey,” Liam greets, stopping a few feet in front of where Zayn’s leaning against the bleachers again.

“Hey,” Zayn breathes back. He feels like he was just the one out there running around the field for an hour, the way his lungs feel heavy and desperate for oxygen.

The ‘congratulations’ on Zayn’s tongue gets cut off, by strong hands grabbing his jaw, a hard press of lips bruising against his own. Liam’s filling his space, taking the little breath he has left and pressing his sticky body against Zayn’s.

“I can’t believe,” Liam says between heavy breaths before he’s kissing Zayn again. All the noise and the crowd seems to fade away and all there is Liam, the scent of sweat and cologne, the taste of blueberry and something minty filling Zayn’s mouth.

Zayn doesn’t want to stop when Liam pulls away. “Danielle and I –“

“Don’t need to explain,” he interrupts immediately (frantically, really). She’s not something he wants to talk about when he’s finally kissing Liam again. He’s so stupid, why did he think this was something he wanted to stop doing?

“I do,” Liam says, his breathing starting to slow now. “Why didn’t you tell me that’s what’s been bothering you?”

“We’re not together, Liam.” Zayn admits sheepishly, looking down at the space between them instead of Liam’s concerned eyes. He feels even stupider hearing the words coming out of his mouth. “You can do what you want.”

“I only want to do you though,” Liam teases, his thumb dragging across Zayn’s bottom lip. Zayn huffs out a laugh. “And I thought we were pretty together, but apparently you either don’t want to be or you’re just daft. I hope the second.”

“I do,” Zayn says quickly, pulling Liam closer. “Want to be.”

Liam smiles warmly and Zayn wants to bask in it. “Then you’re just daft.”

Zayn parts his lips to deny it, but Liam’s pressing their foreheads together, cutting him off. “You are daft. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed how completely gone for you I am. I’ve been yours for some time now and I’d like you to tell me what I can do to prove that to you.”

Zayn shrugs, because he doesn’t know what else to do, what to say. He’s never been able to understand any of the affection Liam’s given him. Liam’s _Liam_ and he’s well – he doesn’t even compare. Liam’s like a piece of the sun, warm and bright and for some reason he makes Zayn feel like the one that’s burning.

With a tilt of his head, Liam sighs as if he knows what Zayn is thinking. “You’re gonna let me try, though?”

Zayn nods, biting on his already swollen lip.

Liam moves his arms around Zayn’s shoulders, bringing their chests together and his lips drag across Zayn’s temple as he speaks. The soft touches he never realized had so much meaning behind them. “Does that mean you can be mine, too?”

“Have been,” Zayn mumbles against his shoulder, allowing himself to take in Liam’s warmth like he’s been wanting to for the past week. He’s sticky with sweat and it dampens Zayn’s skin but he doesn’t care. He’s missed this. Liam was right, he is daft. Daft for thinking this was anything he could do without.

“Does this mean I get out of asking you to be my boyfriend in a cheesy, super romantic way you’ll probably hate?”

Zayn pulls back, gauging Liam’s face. It’s sincere and maybe a bit hesitant, but there’s no teasing there, no way for Zayn to think he’s joking. “Boyfriend?” he repeats, _clarifies_.

Those doe eyes return, round and wide as he asks, “Is that okay?”

“Are you sure?” Zayn breathes.

Liam’s eyes crinkle as he lets out a breath, almost like one of relief. “I will take you out on the field right now, and announce it to everyone here if that will make you believe me.”

Zayn shakes his head quickly, grabbing Liam so he can kiss him, muttering the word yes with every drag of his lips until Liam’s giggling, moving him backwards until the cold pole of the stands presses into his spine.

“Will you?” Liam breaths, pulling away, but their lips still move against each other. “Be my boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Zayn says coolly, but his heart is beating out of his chest and he knows Liam can feel it.

 “Do you believe me now? That I like you, and only you, or whatever it is you decided seeing how I felt first? The words aren’t harsh, but he flinches because Liam’s right. He thinks deep down that’s why he didn’t talk to Louis about it, or why he got so frustrated with Niall. “I would have told you weeks ago if I knew you needed to hear it. I just didn’t know we weren’t on the same page.”

Zayn shakes his head. “I’m just daft sometimes. I worry about things that don’t need to be worried about too much,” he confesses.

Liam rubs circles against his arms, grazing his fingers until their shifting at the muscles of his shoulders. “You’re not daft. If you ever need me to remind you, just let me know. I’d be more than happy too.”

“Probably every day I’ll need you to remind me,” he admits, but he lets his lips curve at the corners so Liam can think he’s joking.

“I can do that,” Liam says seriously. He slides his fingers to cup Zayn’s neck, smoothing his thumb along the column of his throat until his head tilts back. “Just tell me what you need to hear, yeah?”

“I dunno. Maybe keep kissing me?” Zayn suggests. Talking makes him feel overwhelmed and he’s gone a week without Liam and he’d like to make up for it.

Liam shakes his head with a chuckle, closing the space between them again. They’re in public, hardly hidden beneath the bleachers, but Liam’s parting his lips with a tongue and licking into Zayn’s mouth with purpose. Zayn moans, closing his lips around Liam’s tongue to suck softly to hear that quiet sigh he’s missed.

 “C’mon Payne! Bring Zayn too, let’s go celebrate!” Harry laughs at them from where he’s still standing on the field, waving at them with Louis curled against his side.

Liam doesn’t move from where he’s blanketing Zayn’s body, not moving his lips from Zayn’s but he groans something that sounds a lot like a no.

“Go babe. It’s okay,” Zayn murmurs, shifting his lips to the scruff on Liam’s jaw. He doesn’t care if someone might have just seen them sucking face, he’s too busy focusing on _boyfriend_ and _I’ve been yours_ and Zayn thinks he’s addicted to those words. “Celebrate your game.”

“I will,” Liam promises, voice low and rough as his fingers tug on the Zayn’s hips. They press together and _oh_

Liam slips their fingers together, tugging Zayn from where he’s pressed to the bleachers. “Let’s go celebrate, yeah?”

“Gross!” Harry and Louis yell together but Louis’ is giving him a thumbs up and Zayn flushes, flicking him off.

 

Liam’s room is clean, cleaner than he’s ever seen it before. Everything on the desk is stacked nicely, there’s no clothes lying about like usual. Zayn’s eyes linger across a leopard printed suitcase on his bed that Liam takes off and places on the ground.

“Danielle’s,” Liam explains. “She’s leaving tomorrow. Going to the States for some dancing thing for a year.”

Zayn nods, awkwardly. It’s only been a week since he’s been here but it feels like forever. He’s kind of missed that Captain America poster and the Batman pillow Liam likes to drool on.

Liam curls his arms around Zayn’s smaller frame when he looks down at his feet. _Shame_ , he feels now, because guilt was getting lonely he guesses. “I’m sorry, you know,” Zayn murmurs. “For being daft.”

“S’okay.” He cups a hand under Zayn’s chin, dragging his face back up. “But just so know you, I’m completely gay. Like, one hundred percent.”

“Just guys?”

Liam snorts. “Just you,” he promises.  

Cheesy, Zayn thinks, and maybe he loves it.

Liam’s fingers drag through the longer hair at the top of his head, fingers circling against his scalp as they slip against the short hairs on the side. His eyes are round and dark, and this time it’s him staring as they stand there silently. “Can we – can we celebrate by doing something, uh, new?”

Zayn sucks in a breath, nodding. He doesn’t need to ask what (even though he’s pretty sure he knows), because he’d be willing to do anything Liam wants of him at the moment.

“Yeah?” Liam says, tugging Zayn’s hair gently.

A groan rumbles in his chest as he nods. Yes, very much yes -

Liam grins, pulls out his phone, placing it on the doc sat on the desk. “Since you love this album so much, I figured –“

“Should have known you’d be the one to pick out romantic music for this,” Zayn says fondly. He listens to the first few chords of Pusher Love Girl, and _fitting_ he thinks. “And I only like it because it reminds me of you.”

Liam’s cheeks press high against his cheekbones. “Yeah?” He asks, grabbing Zayn’s sides to walk him back towards the bed. “Or do you just have the hots for Justin Timberlake?”

“Both,” Zayn giggles. The bed hits the back of his knees and he sinks down, tugging Liam down to straddle his waist, knees dipping into the bed. The air in the room is thick, but calm, the soft melody of the song floating around him.

“I like you in my jersey,” Liam informs him, tugging on the material until Zayn lifts his arms so he can pull it off. Zayn moves his hands to Liam’s back to hold onto him once he’s gotten the shirt off. He feels incredibly small with Liam higher up than him. They’re normally the same height, but Zayn has to tilt his head all the way back to look up at him.

“Lay back,” Liam murmurs, lips connecting with the curve of Zayn’s shoulder as he discards the shirt somewhere behind him.

Zayn does, fingers latching onto Liam’s sides to ease him down too. He breathes out sharply, Liam sucking softly at his skin, leaving marks that will fade by the time this is over. Or maybe until tomorrow, when they can be made all over again.

Maybe being addicted is okay, not his worst habit at least, with Liam the fix he craves. Soft sung words drift through the room, singing along to the words in his head, _I love this high we’re on to_

Liam looks up at him as his tongue runs over the ink against his chest, a smirk playing on his lips when his fingers skate down Zayn’s sides, tugging at the start of his jeans. Zayn nods though there’s no question, pressing his hips up until Liam’s playing with the buttons. 

“Be still,” he murmurs against his skin, fingers rubbing gentle circles at his hips to coax them to stay against the bed. Zayn teeth twist against his bottom lip, tilting his head back. He’s not sure if that’s possible.

He wants it rushed, and fast, because he’s eager it’s Liam, his _boyfriend_. But he wants to go slow too, savoring every press of skin, even slide of fingers and lips. Fuck – he just wants _Liam._

The pants slide down his thighs as Liam moves his lips down Zayn’s torso, teeth nipping sharply every time Zayn moves.

It’s harder to be still when Liam slips the pants off, tugging his briefs off with it. He starts at the ankle, peppering kisses there before moving his lips past the short hairs of Zayn’s calf.

“These may be my favorite,” Liam whispers against his skin, nosing against the inside of Zayn’s thighs. He lets Zayn drag his fingers through his hair, his legs parting to let Liam fit in better.

“Liam,” Zayn moans, scratching at his scalp as Liam scrapes his teeth against the sensitive skin there. He’s teasing, ignoring his cock that lays heavy and dripping on his stomach. Zayn drags his hands away from Liam’s head, opting rather to release the tension building –

“No,” Liam hums, grabbing Zayn’s wrist and pinning it to the bed beside him. He keeps a tight grip on it, moving his lips back up to bite at the bone of his hips.

“Liam.” It comes out as a plea, desperate and he flushes, looking back up at the ceiling.

Liam snickers but not harshly, moving up Zayn’s body until he’s flushed on top of him, dragging his wrist up so it’s pinned over his head. There’s a smug grin on Liam’s lips before he’s kissing Zayn, licking the taste of cigarette smoke off of his tongue. He grinds up against Liam, whose still wearing his shorts and the soft fabric feels good against him – but not as good as if Liam were bare.

Liam’s other hand drags back down his body, nudging his legs farther, trailing over the underside of his cock and _lower_

“Can I?” he whispers, nosing at Zayn’s jaw so he tilts it to the side, letting Liam bite gently at the column of his throat.

“Yes,” Zayn breathes out quickly. “Yep, I mean. Yeah, go ahead babe.”

Liam laughs, but Zayn doesn’t hear it over the moan he lets out as a finger presses against him, just a tease because Liam is cruel in a lovely way. Zayn tries to press his hips up, the hand above his head straining against Liam’s grip.

Liam presses a kiss to the middle of his chest. “Stay here. Don’t touch,” he murmurs before getting up.

Zayn keeps the arm above his head, flushing because he feels so exposed lying naked on Liam’s bed as Liam digs into his desk to retrieve a bottle of lube and condoms.

“Gonna take your clothes off at any time?” Zayn questions when Liam leans over the side of the bed towards him.

He smirks, knowing he’s a fucking tease as he grabs the neck of his jersey, tugging it off in one swift move. He cups himself through the shorts, biting his lip around a moan and it’s obscene. _Porn star_ , Zayn thinks.

“If you don’t hurry up, I’ll get off without you,” Zayn warns. Liam throws his head back with a laugh, shucking the pants down his hips.

“Needy,” Liam tuts. The bed dips from his weight as he resumes his position leaning over Zayn, his thick cock dangling heavily between his legs. Zayn’s teeth work over his lower lip as he stares for a moment, nerves mixing with arousal. This is happening, and he’s ready – wouldn’t want it with anyone but Liam but the worrisome thoughts are eating at his brain again. _What if he doesn’t do it right_

“Been awhile,” Zayn reminds him, trying to mute his thoughts. He tilts his head up, pouting his lips so Liam will kiss him again.

“Don’t remind me,” Liam murmurs. His kiss is soft, licking his tongue languidly against Zayn’s teeth until all he can taste is that blueberry gum.

“Can we try something new, um, I was thinking about?” Zayn whispers. He had thought about it once, a few weeks ago when he had his lips stretched around Liam, and Liam had groaned it to him while tugging at his hair. Always dirty talking, because Liam’s a closeted porn star.

“We can do anything you want babe.”

Liam looks at him with curiosity as he hesitates to get it out, cheeks warming as he just thinks about saying it out loud. Liam presses his hips down roughly. “Might come before you get it out, Zayn.”

Zayn chuckles, breathing out the words, ‘ _ride my f ace’_ where he hides the burn of his cheeks against Liam’s throat. It sounds as ridiculous as he expected it to, but his heart is racing at the idea, his cock twitching, pushing out drops of precome where it’s trapped between him and Liam.

“Fuck,” Liam groans. “Are you sure?”

He’s moving up Zayn’s body before Zayn can answer, and when Liam’s toned thighs frame his chest he’s definitely sure.

Liam props the pillows behind Zayn’s head, fingers wrapping around Zayn’s jaw as Zayn’s shaking fingers wrap around Liam’s shaft. He licks tentatively at the head, savoring the salty taste on his tongue and the whimper Liam lets out.

It’s harder than Zayn expected, and his neck is little sore as he cranes it towards him but it’s good when Liam lets out small moans of encouragement, thumb rubbing his cheek where his cock pushes against it. Zayn doesn’t think he’ll ever make Liam feel as good Liam makes him feel when he does this, but he’ll try.

He loosens his jaw, fingers digging into the round of Liam’s ass to pull him closer, letting him slide against his tongue until he’s pressing in further.

He groans when Liam presses against the back of his throat, messily bobbing his head. Liam jerks back when he chokes slightly but he shakes his head as if to tell him he’s okay, and guides him back to suckle on the head.

“Fuck,” Liam groans, fingers pressing into his skin. Zayn looks up at him through the eyelashes, and it’s fucking obscene the way he’s looking down at him, teeth gnawing into his lip to the point where it seems painful. “Looks like you were made to do this.”

Zayn’s eyes flutter shut when Liam’s hips stutter as he takes him deeper, moaning when Liam tugs gently in his hair.

It’s uncoordinated and probably too sloppy because he can feel where the spit and precome collect at his cheeks and chin, but Liam’s praising him like he’s never experienced anything better and it makes his cheeks warm.

“Beautiful you are,” Liam grunts, hips pressing forward some and Zayn takes it, nodding his head to let Liam know it’s okay. “Can’t wait to see how you look when I get to do this to you.”

And fuck, he wishes his hands weren’t busy holding Liam’s thighs because his cock aches where it lays on his stomach, and he’s afraid of finding out whether or not he can come from just listening to Liam talk, because it’s feeling like a possibility at the moment.

“Zayn,” Liam gasps, fingers tightening their grip on his hair like a warning. “Stop, stop.”

Zayn pulls back with a wet sound, moving his hand to pump Liam’s cock slowly.

Liam’s fingers wipe at the spit gathered at his lips, rubbing his thumb around them until he slides it across Zayn’s tongue. He’s not sure why it’s so hot, but it is. “Gonna come if you keep it up, and I’m not done with you yet.”

“You wouldn’t be up for another round?” Zayn snickers, as Liam moves his back to his former position over his body.

Liam’s thumbs swipe back at his cheeks. “You’re going to regret saying that after round seven,” he jokes, smacking their lips together before grabbing for the bottle of lube lost somewhere in the sheets.

“Seventeen?” Zayn giggles. Giddy, like a school girl while talking about her crush, the sporty boy with brown eyes and Zayn snorts at himself.

“Get yourself comfortable then babe, you’re not leaving this bed anytime soon.”

Zayn doesn’t plan on it, anyway.

Liam’s finger is cool when he presses it against him again and Zayn shivers, turning his head as far into the pillow as it can go. Liam’s pressing soft kisses to his hips, muttering things that make Zayn feel too warm as his finger gently presses in.

He’s done this before, yeah, to himself. But, tt’s a lot different when it’s someone else. When it’s _Liam,_ who is gentle and practiced like he’s done this plenty of times before.

Zayn hisses when the second digit presses against him and Liam looks up at him from where his lips press open mouth kisses against his cock.

“Keep going, yeah,” Zayn assures him, stretching his legs farther. He wraps a wet hand around his own ignored cock that’s softened from the stretch. Liam swats his hand away, moving his lips over him instead.

Liam pushes in slowly as he laps at the tip of his cock, sucking wet kisses along his length until he’s fully hard again, two fingers scissoring and sinking back into him.

“Liam,” Zayn gasps, grabbing at his shoulders as his fingers press deep inside of him.

“Feel good, babe?” Liam asks lowly, nipping at Zayn’s inner thigh. His hand grabs his leg, bending the knee so he can lick invisible shapes into Zayn’s thighs.

“Yeah, s’okay,” Zayn stutters. _So high I’m on the ceiling baby_ ,

Liam chuckles. “This might feel better,” he says as he presses a third against him. Zayn’s breath gets stuck in his chest as he presses it forward, stretching him further.

“C’mere, please,” Zayn whispers desperately, tugging at his shoulders so Liam can slide back on top of him. He feels less exposed like this, with Liam against every inch of his skin.

“You okay?” Liam asks, eyes blown out but wide, curious and worrisome in a way that only Liam could manage at the same time. Zayn only nods, letting his fingers slide along Liam’s sweaty back, nails pressing into his skin as Liam fucks his fingers into him a bit faster.

“I’m good, yeah. You think you could –“ Zayn starts, hesitating.

“Hmm?” Liam asks, curling his fingers until they nudge against a bundle of nerves and Zayn’s arching into it.  

“Yeah, m’ready,” he pants. He’s not really sure if he is or not, but he’s desperate and needs Liam inside of him before he comes and this ends too soon. _You gave me a taste now I know there’s no getting off of you_

Liam nods, pulling up to nudge Zayn’s thighs around his hips. There’s a dorky smile on his lips when he rips open the condom with his teeth and something like love expands across Zayn’s chest.

Liam’s looks down where their bodies meet and Zayn wishes he could see how good Liam looks pushing into him, how he looks stretching around Liam.

“Am I the first to do this for you?” Liam breathes heavily, nudging the tip of his cock against Zayn’s hole. It’s a strange feeling, the way it clenches in anticipation and he presses his hips forward.

“Yeah,” Zayn admits, not embarrassed like he feels he should be. He doesn’t want to know how many people Liam’s been with (because that makes the jealousy burn away at him and he’s had enough of that for the time being), but he’s sure it’s more than him, and it’s going to be obvious that he’s unpracticed and -

He knows Liam would never make fun of him for it, and there’s not anyone he’d rather be doing this with, and he needs to just shut up, stop thinking so much and enjoy Liam.

Liam looks up, eyes dark with something that makes Zayn’s stomach flutter. “And the last?”

He presses his hips in slowly and it’s a sharp pain as Zayn stretches around him but he’s nodding around a moan, teeth ripping into his bottom lip. _Don’t ever want to come down off this cloud of lovin’ you_

It feels like forever until Liam bottoms out, because it is. Liam’s careful with him as if he’s made of glass. His hand works over Zayn as he adjusts, not moving and a worrisome look on his face as he watches Zayn for any sign to stop.

(Zayn thinks someone would have to put his life in immediate danger for him to ever ask Liam to stop, and he’s not even sure that would work.)

Liam grinds carefully, the tip of his cock nudging against that bundle of nerves until Zayn relaxing around him, and aching where he’s in the palm of his hand.

“Move, Liam, yeah I’m fine,” Zayn pants, grabbing his hips. Liam chuckles before dragging his cock back, almost completely out before pressing back in.

It’s slow, hesitant and a bit sloppy at first, _perfect_ really, until Liam gathers a rhythm, fingers digging into Zayn’s thighs as his cock pulls slowly out of Zayn, pressing forward even slower. Maddeningly slow and Zayn’s intoxicated, drunk off the feeling their bodies create.

“Pusher love girl,” Liam sings softly, giggling as he pushes his hips forward. It breaks the tension a little, and Zayn gives Liam a breathless laugh.

He blankets Zayn’s body, pulling a leg up to press against his chest and the angle is so fucking good, his back arches, fingers scrambling to grab at Liam. Liam’s other hand pins the hand above Zayn’s head so their fingers link together, holding Zayn in place  as Liam’s thrusts become faster, jolting the bed underneath them.  

Liam’s weight is heavy on top of him, but Zayn doesn’t mind because everything surrounding him is _Liam_. The scent of cologne mixing with sweat and the heady scent of _male_ , the sweet taste of blueberry when Liam licks into his mouth. And the sound of Liam’s gasps of breaths mixing in with his own shattered moans and the slick slap of their skin together, a melody Zayn thinks he’s falling in love with.

“Liam,” Zayn says desperately. Liam’s teeth work at the skin of his jaw, hips picking up the pace in response to the silent question. His cock drags along the hard muscles of Liam’s abdomens and it’s pulling him to the edge, threatening to push him over.

Zayn’s grips the curve of Liam’s ass, nails biting into the flesh as a warning before he’s coming thick between their torsos.

Liam groans, loud and rough before he’s pulling back, tilting Zayn’s hips up to fuck into him with staggered, rabbit thrusts.

And though Zayn wants him close, and he’s sensitive, trembling under Liam’s grip, Liam’s beautiful with his head tilted back, exposing the bruises scattered along the column of his neck, temporary reminders of _mine_.

His lips part sinfully, the muscles of his abdomen clenching as his fingers grip painfully into Zayn’s skin. When he comes, the moan ripped from his chest is low pitched and hoarse. Pictures speak a thousand words, but Zayn doesn’t think that even a picture of Liam like this could do it justice.

Liam bends over, biting roughly at Zayn’s bottom lip as he thrusts shallow, coaxing out the rest of his orgasm. Zayn moves his hands through his hair, nipping at his jaw until he collapses on top of him, sliding out slowly. Zayn hisses, and Liam presses soft kisses to his temple, a silent apology.

“Fuck,” Liam mutters, sliding his weight off of Zayn but wrapping his arms around his smaller frame to keep him close. “I can’t wait to do that again. And again, and again…”

Zayn giggles, pushing Liam back so he can straddle his waist. He looks beautiful, cheeks flushed and hair a messy on top of his head. His hands are warm where they lay flat on the back of Zayn’s thighs, fingers rubbing gentle circles against his skin.

“We do have to live that fantasy of yours of me riding you,” Zayn murmurs before kissing him like he completely incapable of stopping himself. _I’m your number one fiend -_

Liam groans, sliding a hand up Zayn’s back to cup his neck. “That’s only one of the things I want to do with you, babe. But very important. We can put that on top of the list.”

Zayn props his arms around Liam’s head. “Yeah?” He quirks up an eyebrow in interest.

Liam nods, seriously. “Like make you my boyfriend – oh wait.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, but his cheeks burn at the word _boyfriend_. “You’re an idiot.”

Liam grins proudly. “And you can’t get enough of it.”

“I’m just a junkie for you love,” Zayn sings, laughing at himself because he missed when he became as corny as Liam.

Liam snorts fondly. “You’re a donut.”

“And you can’t get enough of it,” Zayn repeats, pressing a tongue against the back of his teeth as he smiles.

Liam folds the palm of his hand around the back of Zayn’s neck, tugging him down closer so their lips brush. “Junkie for your love or summat, whatever you said.”

 

“Glad you figured it out, dude,” Harry says, settling against the counter beside Zayn. “Liam’s a good lad. Crazy for you.”

Zayn only shrugs, not taking his eyes away from where Liam stands, talking to the rest of the team. And _I’m gone for him,_ he thinks.

Danielle’s beside Liam, an arm on his shoulder but it doesn’t bother him. Not anymore, because it was daft of him to ever let it.

 _Boyfriend,_ he reminds himself.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to understand it, that Liam looks at him feeling the same way he feels. _You reflect in this heart of mine_

It’s a different tune, one that feels a little bit stronger, more important than infatuation but he likes it, and for once he isn’t turned off by the feeling of hope nestling in his chest.

Liam excuses himself from the group and Zayn looks to Harry as if they were talking, not to be caught staring again. Fingers on his waist drag his attention back to Liam, smiling softly. He drags the snapback off his head, placing it on top of Zayn’s. He doesn’t complain, even though he actually put effort into his hair before they came.

(It took a lot of work coaxing Liam out of bed to join the festivities, and Zayn doesn’t want to admit out loud that he just wanted everyone to see the glow that filled the air around them. And he promised Liam round three later even though his body aches. He’s going to have to build up on his stamina to keep up with that guy.)

“C’mon,” Liam mutters, linking their fingers together. He waves to the group he was with, Zayn trailing behind as he’s guided through the house.

The air outside is colder now, and Zayn closes in on Liam’s space. The grass is covered in the team colored strings the team had thrown about while celebrating. It had been too cold for them outside, but Zayn doesn’t mind.

He knows where they’re going as Liam glances over his shoulder, squeezing Zayn’s fingers and heading towards the side of the yard.

The music is a distant thud, some old fast beat Justin Timberlake song, different than the one Zayn sings softly under his breath. _Coming back into you once I figured it out, you were right here all along_

They stop at the oak tree and Liam lets go of his hand before he sits at the base. “Take a picture with me,” he murmurs, handing Zayn the phone.

“Liam,” Zayn whines, but he slinks down beside him, anyway.

His fingers are shaky as they type in his passcode, four letters as familiar to him as Malik, and opens up the camera. Liam presses their heads together, slipping his hand to cup Zayn’s other cheek and hold him there.

“Ready?” Zayn murmurs. It’s dark again, their faces hardly more than an outline when Liam hums, turning Zayn’s face so their noses knock. It’s so stupid and mushy that Zayn’s smiling against Liam’s lips when he takes the photo.

Liam pulls away with a satisfied smirk. “Gonna post that one on Instagram. ‘Celebrating with my boyfriend @niazkilam.’ Is that okay?”

Zayn rests his head on Liam’s shoulder to watch him type. “Yeah, babe. Cheesy, perfect.”

“Everything you love about me?”

Zayn chews on his bottom lip, nodding. _Love,_ maybe. He hasn’t known the feeling before but he thinks it something like flushed skin under crinkled eyes, hidden behind thick framed glasses.

“Some of the things.” They’ll freeze to death before Zayn could list every one.

Liam giggles, his shoulder shrugging into his chin and Zayn groans.

Zayn moves, sliding easily into Liam’s lap. Liam puts down the phone, tilting his head back against the tree to look up at him.

Zayn lets himself stares, giving up on the promise he made weeks ago to work on that. He traces a finger along the contours of Liam’s face, trailing down the slope of his nose, the sharp of his jaw, and the curve of his lips.

Liam takes his hand, settling it in his lap. His thumb idly rubs circles against the palm. “Hm?” He murmurs curiously, his other hand cupping Zayn’s hip to keep him steady on top of him.

“Just wondering if you’re really fake after all,” Zayn murmurs. “Because if so, I knew it.”

Liam snorts, teeth tugging at the corner of his lips before he shakes his head. He presses Zayn’s hand to his chest, smoothing it across the expanse of it. “Do I feel fake?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Zayn admits sheepishly, tongue licking at the back of his teeth as he smiles.

Liam sighs, a smirk lingering on his lips as a hand fists into the old plaid shirt Zayn’s wearing to pull him closer. It’s one of Liam’s and he’s never getting it back. “You would think after today, you’d know now that I am in fact real.”

Zayn chuckles, playfully wiggling his hips in Liam’s lap. “Guess you have to show me again.”

“Gonna show you a lot of things until you believe me,” Liam promises in a hushed whisper. _And I can’t help but stare ‘cause I see the truth somewhere in your eyes_

\+ + +

Zayn adjusts the black, square shaped cap tilted on Liam’s head. He had insisted on wearing it even though they weren’t at the school yet and Zayn has no clue where his own is. Probably still somewhere in the packaging because he had been too busy worrying about final exams than _graduation._

“How does it look?” Liam asks, leaning to the side to look into the mirror behind Zayn. “Alright?”

“True scholar,” Zayn muses, tugging on Liam’s tie slightly until it’s in place. He’s in all black and is probably going to sweat under the heat, but he looks fit. “You’d be a proper mess without me, hm?”

Liam’s nose crunches and he’s cupping Zayn’s neck. “Sure would babe.”

It’s only a peck on the lips, but Zayn’s thinking they ditch this ceremony and laze about in bed all day once Zayn strips him out of that obscene suit. He’s been sporting a semi since Liam got out of the shower. (And really, it’s been almost four years you would think his dick would calm down by now.)

“That reminds me.” Liam walks away, scrambling in the drawers to the left of the dresser where most of Liam’s clothes are. (They are the clothes that Zayn mostly wears but neither one of them mention it.)

He pulls out a square box, wrapped in shiny green foil with a small bow at the top and Zayn frowns. “What is that,” he says warily.

Liam grins mischievously, pressing the box forward into Zayn’s chest. “For you.”

“Liam,” Zayn says, scolding. “We said no gifts.”

(He doesn’t tell him about the present he’s gotten Liam is buried in the bottom of the closet for when they come back later tonight.)

“Cost me – I don’t know, not even five quid. Just open it, please?”

Zayn grumbles, pretending to be put off, but he’s eager. He learned long ago that will buy him things even if when Zayn protests and there’s no arguing with him once he’s made up his mind. Liam hates gifts the same, but he’s less of a brat about it than Zayn is.

The paper falls to the floor revealing a book – a scrapbook to be exact, with craft store stickers scattered across it – there’s paintbrushes, books, footballs, surrounding the familiar scratch of Liam’s handwriting _Liam + Zayn 4ever._

Zayn snorts. Cheesy, and he’s in love with it.

Liam’s blushing shyly when Zayn looks up. It’s not even close to the most romantic thing Liam’s done, (the cold metal pressed against the skin of his finger is a reminder of that), but it warms his chest when Liam proudly admits, “Made it myself. Go on, open it.”

The inside of the cover has more of Liam’s scratching, words he remembers Liam saying before. _Been yours for some time now, but here’s more proof if you need it still -_

The first picture Zayn recognizes, but it’s been a long time since he’s seen it. From the first night, next to that oak tree that they always used to sneak off to before they moved off campus and into the flat they’re living in now.

They’re so different, he thinks. Liam’s a bit rounder in the cheeks, hair longer. Zayn’s own face is older, the contours of his face more defined from the shaved sides of his new haircut. But they still look good next to each other. _Making two reflections into one –_

He flicks through the pages as Liam watches, each one filled with four or five pictures from the past four years. They’re mostly of the two of them, some of just Zayn or just Liam that the other took. There’s even the picture of that crisp Liam took a picture of because he was fascinated by it for some reason that Zayn can no longer remember.

He smiles when he spots Safaa, arms wrapped around Liam’s neck as he gives her a piggy back ride when they visited home their sophomore year. Then the one his mum snuck while they were sleeping, Zayn clinging to Liam as not to fall off the couch. There’s one of his Baba and Liam’s face pressed together and he thinks maybe that’s his favorite.

An overwhelming feeling fills his chest as he gets it. Liam’s put every memory of them together and somehow allowed Zayn to fit his world in the palm of his hands _._ Liam, the boys, _his family._

It’s silent, Zayn smiling while looking down and he can feel Liam smiling at him. The last photo is Liam’s current Facebook profile picture, taken last week and Zayn’s frowning in it but Liam’s eyes are crinkling around a laugh and no that’s his favorite.

The scrapbook is thick, and the back half is nothing but empty pages (Zayn flicks through them just to make sure he’s not missing any).

“Liam,” He mutters, closing it and placing it on the nightstand beside him.

“Those blank pages are supposed to represent the fact that we have many more memories to make,” Liam whispers, grinning into his shoulder in a way that Zayn still thinks about fighting him for. “Danielle came up with that idea.”

“Many more. Like graduation,” Zayn murmurs, reaching to slide his palm against Liam’s warm cheeks.

Liam slides his hand over Zayn’s. “Starting our grown up lives.”

Zayn smiles fondly. “Nervous?”

Liam’s finger runs over the silver band wrapped around Zayn’s finger. The promise of years more of memories. “Been more nervous before. I can handle it.” 

He wonders if the fluttering feeling in his stomach will ever go away when it comes to Liam. He links their fingers, holding on, because he hopes not. “We can do it together, like you promised.”

Liam grins, sliding an arm around his waist. “Oh, did you think I was serious about that?”

 

Zayn’s not sure why graduation is hyped up to be such an exciting event. He sits in his chair, under the hot sun, sweating under too many layers as they drag through the list of students. He had to stop looking back at where Liam sits, a section over and one row behind, because his family is sat a few rows back and keeping making faces at him. Well, mostly Safaa so he really doesn’t mind that much.

He gets his degree, walking up on the stage slightly embarrassed as he listens to the cheers of his family, Liam, the boys and Louis – louder than them all. The big moment is over in less than a minute, and he sits back down just to wait again.

He keeps his eyes in his lap. The silver on his finger shines against the black folder, and he grins.

It’s not an engagement ring, really. But Liam had given it to him with the promise of spending their lives together so it feels like the same thing.

Liam walks on stage with shoulders back, an excited grin on his face because this is something that he’s been excited about since forever. The cheer is louder this time, the team, half the people around him cheering out “Payno!” Zayn cheers too, and he may not be the loudest but he thinks Liam can hear him anyway.

When it’s over, he finds Liam easily in the crowd, pushing through people whose names he’s never really managed to learn.

Louis throws an arm around his shoulders before he can get to his boyfriend, pressing a wet kiss to his forehead. “We did it, Zaynie babe.”

“Sure did,” Zayn snorts, ruffling his fingers through Louis’ hair affectionately. Okay, so maybe graduation is a bit exciting.

“Together, and somehow managed to pick up a few stragglers on the way.”

“Hey,” Liam says, pouting his lips as he curls an arm around Zayn’s waist. Zayn squeezes tight, feeling a bit emotional all of a sudden but he swallows it down. “I think you two are the stragglers Haz and I picked up, actually.”

“Details, Leeymo,” Louis sighs, waving him off. “Speaking of Harold, I should probably go find him. We were sat like, ten seats away from each other, I’m not sure how I managed to lose him.”

They’ll meet up later, for drinks or something he thinks Liam has planned but won’t let him in on. They might be leaving school, moving on in different paths but he doesn’t think Louis and him will ever stray far from one another.

“Should probably find our mums,” Liam murmurs, tilting Zayn’s chin up once Louis walks off. “Probably want at least five hundred photos of us, with each of our family members, people we met once while here at school.”

Zayn snorts, pressing their lips together. “Naturally.”

His mum’s already got the camera out when they find their families together, waving over to them excitedly like they could ever miss them.

“I’m so proud of you sunshine,” she murmurs, pulling him into a hug. Safaa squeezes onto his side and he tickles through her hair. She’s much taller now, almost reaching his shoulder and he’s going to be sad when she’s taller than him.

“Thanks mum,” he mutters. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

She pinches his cheek. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Zayn watches as Liam shakes his father’s hand, and his father pulls him into a hug, a warm smile on his face. “Congratulations, son.”

He’s not sure when his father picked up the pet name for Liam, but he thinks he’s in love with it.

“You too, I guess,” Yaser jokes, pulling Zayn by the shoulder to kiss him on the forehead. Tears choke in the back of his throat and his father gives him a smile like he knows. “Very proud of you, beta.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you either, Baba.”

Yaser snorts, nodding his head towards his wife. “With a woman like that, I’m sure you could.”

He watches the soft smiles their parents share from over his shoulder and he wonders if that’s how he and Liam look. Could look, one day.

He hopes so.

“You’ve had him twenty two years, Yaser. Let me have some time with him.”

Zayn pulls her in tightly when Karen goes to hug him. He loves her, kind and gentle like his mum, with eyes that crinkle at the corners when she smiles, her face resembling everything he’s learned to know as happiness. “Congratulations, love.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Payne.”

Karen clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “Now what did I tell you about that?”

“Karen,” Zayn remedies with an apologetic smile.

She pats his cheek. “C’mon. Let’s get a photo of you and my boy.”

“Told you,” Liam murmurs, sliding an arm around Zayn’s shoulders, right beside him the whole time. Zayn slips his around Liam’s waist. They fit, perfectly.

Cameras fill their vision and Yaser gives Zayn an amused shake of his head. Geoff stands beside him, arms crossed, looking at his son with an amused look of his own and they fit too – family.

“Our boys, growing up,” Tricia giggles to Karen. Zayn’s pretty sure she’s going to cry soon if she hasn’t already and he holds in his groan. Waliyha rolls her eyes, but she’s got her camera out too. Just as bad as their mum, he thinks.

Liam presses his lips against Zayn’s temple and Zayn flushes as the cameras go off again, capturing the moment as their mothers start cooing about how cute they are, and other things that make Zayn want to hide his face against Liam’s chest. “Together?”

Zayn grins reaching over to link their fingers. “We do have to fill those blank pages, babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys know I had to include Mirrors in this some how hehe :D! Please let me know what you think? Everything's appreciated :D

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably going to be three chapters. I'm almost done with the second so look out for it and let me know what you think:) [tumblr](http://zipplekink.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/zippIekink) if you need it!


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